


Better Angels of Our Natures

by bzarcher



Series: Bonds Of Affection [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Acceptance, Alcohol, Amelie can't cook, Back to work, Ballet, Birthdays, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Consensual Nonmonogamy, Conversations, Dart Wars, Desperate Measures, Developing OT3, Discussion of relationships, Dreams, Emily has Two Hands, Emily is a Tolkien Fan, Emily is a massive closet nerd, Enemies to Friends, Evolving relationships, F/F, Fancy Hotels, Financial shenanigans, Food, Football, Found Family, French Lemon Tea, Getting to Know Each Other, Guardian Angel - of a sort, Hanging Scum Off Public Sculpture for Fun and Profit, Hide and Seek, Hiding in Plain Sight, Home Invasion, Horseback Riding, Hurt/Comfort, Implied rooftop sex, It sort of turned into a travelouge, Lemon Tea, Lemon Tea Maker, Lena is best at pancakes, Love Is Not A Prison Sentence, Multi, Nerves and Hesitation, Nightmares, Omnic Racism, Other, Painful Recriminations, Phone Conversations, Podfic Welcome, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Practical Pan Emily is Pan, Reclaiming Agency, Reconciliation, Recovering Memories, Recovery, Rescue, Retracing steps, Rooftop fights, Self-Acceptance, Shooting lessons, Slow Build, Sombra ALWAYS has a plan, Sombra is not infallible, Steps Towards Healing, Sudden realizations four months in the making, Tea, Television Watching, Thrashing mooks, Toy shopping, Tracer Can Fly A Plane But She Can't Ride A Horse, Tracer has An Infinite Amount of Potential Hands, Unreliable Memories, What To Expect When You're Expecting A Sniper, Widowmaker has Two Hands, Widowtracer, You Are Not A Weapon You Are A Person, accepting family, black powder rifles, chosen family, communicating almost entirely through sass, couch cuddling, dance, desperate times, dinner date, falling asleep, gingerspider, grocery stores, interruptions, lots of coffee, painful past, past imperfect, rooftop makeouts, secret clubs, tall bi Widowmaker is bi, tearful reunions, tiny gay Tracer is gay, unexpected kisses, what the hell is the ship tag?, widowtracily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-09-16 20:52:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 86,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: Emily knows someone's been watching out for her lately, but isn't sure who it is.Tracer knows that Widowmaker went rogue from Talon, and no one knows why.Widowmaker knows more about both Lena and Emily than they think, but she isn't entirely certain what she knows about herself.





	1. Be Not Afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m kind of shocked I have to do this, but due to some recent events I guess I should make it crystal clear: 
> 
> This story is my work, posted intentionally on AO3, and I do not grant permission for anyone to repost this story in any form on another website. 
> 
> If you are interested in doing a podfic or translation, please contact me and I’ll be happy to discuss it with you, but anyone posting a copy of this story on FF.net, Wattpad, or any other website is doing so without my consent and stealing my work.

The first time it had happened, Emily chalked it up to a figment of her imagination.

She’d been walking home from the tube stop, shopping bag in hand, when she’d caught a glint of sunlight reflecting off something on a rooftop. She’d looked up and would swear there had been a flicker of movement, but she’d dismissed it immediately. Aside from Lena hopping around up there, now and then, nobody would be hanging about on the rooftops.

It was probably a squirrel that had found something shiny.

A few days later, Lena came home from “work” looking unsettled – looking pale as a sheet, honestly – and Emily had immediately dropped what she’d been doing to take the slightly shorter woman’s hands in her own. “What’s happened? Was someone hurt? Are you alright?”

Lena wordlessly pulled her in for a hug and Emily held her tight, ignoring how the fairing of Lena’s harness struck her in the chest until Lena finally spoke. “I don’t know. It was…I’m not hurt but I don’t…no, sorry, luv, I'm not OK.”

Emily nodded, pressing a gentle kiss against her lover’s forehead. “I understand. Let me turn the stove off and I want you to tell me about it, all right?”

“Right,” Lena agreed as she let go, her fingers lingering against the redhead’s hip, “I’ll do my best.”

A few minutes later, they sat on their couch, Lena out of her tactical gear and wrapped securely in a blanket that Emily had draped over her, the accelerator plugged into the outlet next to the window so it could recharge, while Emily waited patiently for her to find the words she needed.

“We hit a Talon base today,” Lena finally began, “in a pretty nasty part of Columbia. Jesse had been staking it out for a while, and when we got word that Reaper was expected to show up, Winston decided it was a good opportunity to try capturing him along with hurting Talon’s operations.”

“Ok,” Emily replied encouragingly, “makes sense. So what happened?”

“We hit the base. That part went just about like clockwork. But when we tried to corner Reaper…he managed to bust the trap Angela had given us – she thought it would keep him from doing the smoke thing, and it did for a few seconds, but then he broke out. We couldn’t put him down fast enough.”

Lena paused, her eyes flicking to the window, then back to make eye contact with her girlfriend again. “I was trying to chase him down. Managed to tag him with a pretty good shot, enough to make him stumble to the ground. Turned him over and was going to try whacking him with my pistol to see if it would knock him out when he told me something.”

Emily frowned. “Go on…”

Lena closed her eyes, then took a deep breath before she spoke again. “He said Widowmaker went rogue from Talon three weeks ago. Then he said…he asked…‘ _So how’s the_ _girlfriend_ _, Oxton?_ ’ and the bastard started to _laugh._ ” Lena shivered despite the blanket. “He got away. I froze up. My fault. I spent the whole flight back to Watchpoint G so _scared_ , Em. My hands were shaking so bad by the time I got to London that I had to ask Athena to do an AI assisted landing. Didn’t trust myself…I was so scared I’d get home and find a bullet hole in the window and you…”

Emily shuffled herself over on the couch so she could draw her girl into a hug. “If that bastard asks you that question again, you tell him she’s fine, and right pissed he gave you such a scare. I’m right here, OK? Right here and safe, I swear.”

Lena finally let her tears fall, and Emily softly whispered “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here” until the fear that had gripped the former test pilot had been finally been dispelled.

Neither realized a silent figure was watching from three buildings away.

* * *

At Lena’s quiet insistence, Emily started to vary her routines a bit – taking different routes when she left the flat for work or to shop, making sure she got food from different restaurants rather than going back to the same spots for lunch or takeaway, using Lena’s car to run errands sometimes, taking the bus or the tube at other times.

Despite the very serious reasons behind it all, Emily couldn’t help but think of it as sort of a game. How many different ways could she figure out to, say, pick up a coffee on any given day?

She’d been playing the game for over a month, and it was beginning to get a bit boring to her, but it made Lena happy to hear her describe all her crazy routes, so she was doing her best to stick with it.

Unwittingly, she’d repeated her route four times in that period.

Unknowingly, she’d been tailed three of those times.

Each of the men who had attempted to stalk her through her day were found dead in a completely different part of the city, each seemingly of natural causes.

Emily just kept going about her life, unaware that she’d acquired a particularly lethal guardian angel.

She caught another glimpse a few weeks later. Emily had been running late to meet Lena for dinner after the tube had been delayed, leaving her half walking, half running through the cold London rain, the hood of her raincoat bouncing off her head. Stuck at the zebra crossing, she turned to watch the traffic and caught a flick of a long, dark ponytail from the corner of her eye. A hint of skin that seemed…off, somehow.

She turned back, and just for an instant she would swear she saw a tall figure in a dark coat in the alleyway between a chip shop and a jewelers, but a heartbeat later she was gone.

They were in bed that night when Emily decided she had to know. “Lena, I know you don’t like to talk about work, especially when it's about _her_ , but…can you describe her to me?”

Lena’s brows knit as she pushed herself up on an elbow. “Who…wait, y’mean describe _Widowmaker?”_

Emily nodded. “I was thinking that if I’m supposed to be keeping an eye out, I don’t really know much about her.” Despite the serious nature of the conversation, she couldn’t help but smile a little. “Well, aside from ‘Cor, blimey, you would not _believe_ the arse on her’ and ‘I have no idea how she files around on that grappling hook with her tits half hanging out like that’. Not exactly useful if I’m looking over my shoulder.”

The blush that spread across Lena’s face was adorable, and Emily nearly aborted the discussion in favor of kissing her silly goose of a girl, but Lena straightened up a bit, and the serious look in her eyes demanded Emily’s full attention.

“She’s a bit taller than you – close to six feet in those ridiculous heels she wears, so she’s probably about five foot eight or nine without. Her skin is kind of somewhere between blue and purple. Periwinkle, I guess? Gets a bit more purple if you get her pissed off, but generally it’s a pretty cool shade. Her eyes are sort of…they’re more golden than yellow? Not, like, hazel but actually _gold_. I’d swear they glitter sometimes. If she wasn’t looking over a rifle’s sights at me when I usually see them, it would be pretty stunning.”

Emily nodded, thinking of the figure she thought she’d seen. “What about her hair?”

“It’s sort of…dark indigo? I think she dyes it. I asked Angie once if that could have been from whatever Talon did to her, and she insisted hair color doesn’t change like that, but we really don’t understand half what those bastards did to the woman she used to be. Keeps it in a really long ponytail, which is kind of silly really – it’s like she _wants_ me to grab it when we’re fighting…”

Emily grinned. “Focus, Flight Lieutenant Oxton.”

Lena stuck out her tongue. “Seriously, though, it makes no sense at all. I keep my hair short for a _reason_ , you know.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Aside from getting into your old flight helmets, or that _you_ like it when I grab your hair?”

Lena sputtered, giggling, and Emily moved in for the kill, her hands sliding around her lover's sides. She still wasn’t entirely sure if she’d seen Widowmaker…but she had a suspicion. But if it _was_ her, if this woman _wanted_ to kill her, why wasn’t she doing anything? What could that _mean_?

It concerned her, but she had better things to focus on tonight – starting with giving Lena’s hair a tug just like _that._

* * *

Four months after Reaper’s threat, Emily finally got a good look at the woman who kept intersecting at the corners of her life. Unfortunately, she also got a good look at the Talon operatives who had been attempting to corner her, too.

She’d decided to go back to her favorite coffee shop to unwind after work, mentally fried after a long day, and didn’t bother with the game. She just walked the most direct route because she wanted a slice of lemon bar and a latte, nothing else.

Her plans were changed when a leather-gloved hand wrapped around her mouth, dragging her back into the alleyway she had just passed, her surprised cry muffled by the thick material.

“Keep her still!”

“Grab her bag!”

“Zipties!”

She couldn’t follow how many of them there were. She thought it was three? Maybe four? Could it be five? All the voices were male. Hard plastic was wrapped around her wrists, biting painfully into her skin. Panic made everything crystal sharp and dizzingly blurry at the same time as Emily tried to summon enough breath from her heaving chest to scream, to get loose, to _run._

Then one of the men’s voices suddenly grunted in pain and the world spun as she was tossed roughly to the ground.

The dark clad woman – her apparent guardian angel – had dropped into the alley from one of the rooftops and landed on the man who had seized her. The Widowmaker stood slowly, putting herself between Emily and the thugs. For a long moment the world seemed to freeze, then started again on fast forward as the mysterious woman began to demolish the six(!) men who had been there to kidnap her.

Some part of Emily’s brain suddenly recalled a few words of a long ago Sunday School lesson that she had almost completely forgotten.

 _In Scripture, the angels had to greet Mankind with the words “Be Not Afraid” because they were_ _terrifying_ _._

One of the men produced a knife from his coat. The dark clad woman – yes, her skin _was_ periwinkle, really, Lena was right – slipped inside of his reach with a move that was too fast for Emily to follow, wrenched the blade from his hand, then slammed the pommel into his throat, sending him to the ground choking and gasping for air.

Another attempted to get Widowmaker from the side. The assassin whirled away from his charge, then dropped and used her momentum to sweep his legs out from under him, popping back up as if she’d been spring loaded.

The fourth kidnapper bellowed a wordless challenge, but Widowmaker remained silent as she counter charged, slamming the knife she’d taken up and under his ribcage, the air leaving his lungs with a sudden gasp before he dropped bonelessly to the ground.

The fifth had pulled a snub nosed pistol from his coat, but Widowmaker relieved him of it the same way she’d taken the knife away from his friend, putting an elbow strike into his temple to send him to the ground.

The last man standing had started running, but Widowmaker dropped the pistol she’d liberated into her coat pocket and then raised her hand, making a fist as she fired her grappling hook out from the gauntlet she’d kept hidden under her coat’s broad sleeve.

The hook bit into the dumpster just ahead of where he’d been running, and Widowmaker zipped towards him as the grapple reeled her in. Her free hand came out to seize the back of his neck in an iron grip, yanking him off his feet and slamming his face into the refuse container with a loud _CLANG._

The fight couldn’t have lasted more than half a minute.

Before Emily had really processed everything that had just happened, Widowmaker appeared, kneeling down next to her with the same knife she’d just used to kill one of her attackers.

Lena was right about her golden eyes being stunning, too. She looked… _alien_ , really. An exotic, almost otherworldly beauty.

Her still shocked mind had nearly lost herself in those thoughts when a splash of sunlight reflected off the knife, drawing her attention downward, catching a bit of blood still staining the blade’s edge.

There was a moment of pain as the zipties went taut against the knife’s edge, and then the plastic gave way, releasing her hands. She felt pins and needles as the blood began to flow back into her fingertips, but other than angry red marks where the ties had dug into her wrists, she was unhurt.

Widowmaker helped her to her feet, then silently handed Emily back her purse.

Emily tried to stammer out her thanks, but couldn’t manage words before she watched the dark clad woman raise her arm and fire her grapple again, disappearing as suddenly as she’d appeared.

Emily stumbled into the coffee shop and told the owner that someone had just tried to mug her. Given that Lena was technically a “person of interest” for violating the PETRAS Act, she couldn’t just say “my girlfriend is a superhero and the baddies she fights just tried to kidnap me”, after all, and how could she even begin to explain what had _really_ happened when she didn’t understand it herself?

As it was, the patrolwoman from the Plod who interviewed her was happy to take a statement that group of men had tried to grab her, and she’d managed to yank her bag back and get away, and Emily was certainly shaken up enough to make it realistic.

After finishing with the police and drinking a cuppa on the house, Emily called a cab to take her home. She didn’t notice the dark shape that paced her the from the rooftops the entire way, but some part of her had a feeling it was there. Leaving the cab and getting into the building became a blur as the adrenaline crash hit her, and the last thing she remembered was slumping against the stairwell railing as she climbed towards their floor.

When Lena came home, she found Emily asleep on the couch, still fully dressed. The door had been locked from the inside, and there was a take-home container from the coffee shop with two slices of lemon bar sitting on their kitchen table.

After Lena gently woke her up, she noticed the marks against her pale wrists and asked what had happened as she tenderly led her lover back to bed.

Emily tried to explain as best she could, but it was already difficult to put the experience into words – what had been real and what had been the product of her panicked imagination?

“I was walking to Travonna, you know, the coffee place, and suddenly someone had grabbed me from behind. I tried to scream but there was a hand over my mouth and I couldn't _breathe!_  Everything started to spin, and I thought I heard someone else start fighting with them, and all of the sudden the one holding me let go...”

She took another breath, trying to make her voice stop shaking. “I ran as hard as I could and made it to the shop – they called the police and I knew I couldn’t tell the Plod ‘My girl is Tracer, you know, the superhero vigilante’, so I just told them I got mugged. They did a police report and I think I got a cab home and I don’t even remember getting inside or falling asleep on the couch, honestly…”

“Shhh, it’s alright…” Lena drew her close and now it was her turn to cry, the shock of it all suddenly fresh again. Emily clung to her for dear life, taking deep shuddering breaths as she felt Lena’s hands gently stroke circles along her back. “You’re safe, and you did exactly the right thing – you got somewhere safe and public and you’re home now and you’re safe and I’m _so proud of you_ , OK? I’m so sorry I wasn’t home…I should have been there for you.”

Emily shook her head, sniffling. “I knew you’d be home as soon as you could. You’re saving people, Lena, I know how much that matters.”

Lena smiled sadly. “I could save a thousand people and it wouldn’t mean a damn if I found out you got hurt along the way, Em. I’m just relieved…whoever broke up those thugs, I owe them a year’s worth of pints at the Black Unicorn.”

Emily nodded, falling back onto the bed and Lena's reassuring warmth, slim arms holding her just tightly enough to feel comforting rather than ensnaring. “Love you, Lena…Love you _so much!_ ”

“Love you too, pet.” Lena gently kissed the redhead’s forehead, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as she processed through her own fear and relief. “Think I’ll call Winston in the morning. Tell him I need some time off.”

Emily pulled back just enough to meet her lover’s honey colored eyes with her own. “You sure?”

Lena smiled. “Angie’s a card carrying member of the ‘Lena is trying to do too much’ club. She’ll be delighted to hear I'm taking some time. Athena can drive the bus for a little while, or Hana can do some basic piloting in a pinch. I know Winston will understand, especially once I fill him in on what’s happened.”

Nodding, Emily nibbled at her lip in thought for a second. “It’d be nice to have some extra time with you, even if I hate the reason behind it. I can shift things around at the office, too. I need to burn a few vacation days anyway, and if I give them the edited version I’m sure Mr. Peel will tell me to take all the time I need.”

Lena laughed lightly. “There you are, then. We’ll have a little stay-cation here, watch some movies maybe, let the world get by without us for a few days.”

Laying back down, Emily let her eyes close again as Lena snuggled against her, the reassuring presence reminding her that she was OK, that she was _safe_.

As she began to drift off, she found herself looking through the window, and for a moment she would swear that she had seen a tall silhouette looking back at her from a distant rooftop.

Between the comforting light of her lover and the silent vigil of her shadowy guardian, Emily slept soundly through the night.


	2. Observation & Misdirection

The next morning, Emily woke to hear voices coming from the kitchen, and it took a moment for her to realize that Lena was on speakerphone with someone.

 _“…was just about to call you, actually.”_ Winston’s deep voice sounded concerned, Emily thought as she shuffled out in a pair of boxers and a slightly-too-tight camisole that wasn’t actually hers.

“Yeah?” Lena had a mixing bowl in her hands and was whipping a whisk around, the accelerator hanging off its’ hook a few feet away, dressed in a too-large t-shirt and jogging shorts. “What’s happened, then?”

 _“Six dead Talon agents were found in six different parts of London yesterday,”_ Winston explained bluntly, and Lena came to a complete stop, staring at where her mobile sat on the kitchen table.

“Say that again?”

_“Six Talon agents, each one apparently killed in a different part of London, each by a different method.”_

Lena turned to see Emily in the doorway, and gestured for her to come in, setting the mixing bowl down on the counter so she could squeeze the redhead’s hand with her own. “Were any of them found around the Row?”

 _“No,”_ Winston gave a soft grunt before continuing on, _“which is interesting. Despite your presence – or because of it – I would have expected a few to be found there, either trying to get to you, or attempting to attack the Omnic Underground again.”_

Lena looked over at Emily thoughtfully, then turned back to the phone. “Winston, a group of men tried to abduct Emily last night. She wasn’t sure how many there were, but when she tried to get away, someone else started attacking the goons.”

Winston’s voice was thoughtful. _“Do you think we could have a new player there?”_

Lena sighed. “Don’t know. Any commonalities in how they were killed?”

_“Not really, no…two died by blunt force trauma, but inflicted in different ways. The third was stabbed, fourth victim had a collapsed trachea…the fifth one appears to have been drowned, and the last one had a snapped neck.”_

“Huh. Well, no bullet wounds or poison means it’s unlikely to have been You Know Who. If they were the men who attempted to snatch Em, could this have been Talon cleaning house after they bungled the job?”

 _“That’s not outside the realm of possibility,”_ Winston mused, _“but difficult to say for sure.”_

Lena nodded, giving Emily a reassuring look before addressing the phone again. “As it is, I was calling originally to let you know what had happened, and to tell you I thought I’d stick close to home for a little while – just until we’re sure things are back to normal.”

_“Sounds like a good idea to me. I’ll let Hana know she may get asked to do more piloting. Is Emily there?”_

Emily nodded, even though she knew Winston couldn’t see her. “Right here, yes.”

_“I’m relieved to hear you weren’t hurt."_

The redhead squeezed Lena’s hand again. “Thanks, Winston. That means a lot.”

Winston’s voice brightened just a little. _“Of course. Both of you, please stay safe – and be careful.”_

Over the course of the next week, things seemed to get back to normal. Lena popped out occasionally to pick up takeaway or groceries, they watched shows that had been backing up on their DVR, waiting for a chance to watch them together, and Emily felt less and less inclined to jump at shadows.

After the first few days, Emily realized that she’d begun looking out their bedroom window before she slept, and watching the rooftops around her on the occasions where they both went out.

She finally caught a flash of movement while Lena was out to grab dinner – a reflection where there shouldn’t have been one. She stepped onto the balcony, peering out into the London night, and… _yes_. She could just make out the sniper’s seated form. If she strained her eyes, she’d swear she could see the ponytail fluttering for a moment in the night wind.

Looking straight at the woman watching over her, Emily mouthed _"Thank you,_ ” then waved.

She saw Widowmaker stand up like a shot, then a dark shape flickered across windows and lights as she disappeared into the night.

“Em?” Lena stepped through the door, the glow of her accelerator casting everything in blue light. “Whatcha doing out here?”

Emily turned with a smile. “It’s a nice night, so I felt like a little air.” She’d have to tell Lena, she knew she would, but it just seemed so impossible. Would she even believe it?

Lena smiled back, raising the bag of food in her other hand. “Fair enough. Feel like having dinner on the patio?”

Emily grinned as she pulled a chair out from the little table beside her. “Sounds like a lovely idea.”

From half a block away, a woman settled into her new observation position and watched through her scope as Tracer – _Lena_ – began to open containers that released clouds of steam as the hot food met cooler air, while the redhead – _Emily –_ opened a pair of disposable chopsticks.

Apparently they liked Thai food. She would try to remember that.

* * *

Two weeks after Emily had been attacked, there were no further signs of Talon activity in London, no more mysteriously appearing corpses, and (officially) no sign of Widowmaker anywhere.

Lena’s earlier concern had eased, and they’d been going out more often. Emily appreciated that quite a bit – she’d begun feeling a bit stir crazy after the first week, really. She still wasn’t complaining about the extra time together, though. Soon enough Lena would be back to Overwatch, their time together reduced to snatches here and there, perhaps a weekend together, perhaps a few nights during the week.

She believed in what Lena was doing. She knew full well that saving the world wasn’t a job that ran on banker’s hours, and she’d never ask Lena to stop…but she still got lonely, sometimes.

They’d decided to hit Oxford Street for some window shopping when Emily noticed a woman in a dark coat following them.

Widowmaker had taken her hair down and put it into a low bun, she realized, to be less easily spotted. Emily caught a glimpse in a window’s reflection, recognizing the coat from their encounter in the alleyway. The tall woman was staying back, but clearly shadowing them.

Yet…she could have done that from the rooftops just as easily, couldn’t she?

Emily considered that for a moment and then made a decision. Just up ahead…yes. That would do.

“Feel like a coffee, sweet?”

“Huh?” Lena turned away from the window display of clubwear she’d been considering with a thoughtful expression, blinking for a moment as she dragged herself back from thoughts of…well. That emerald green corset _did_ seem to look about her size, didn’t it? Emily’s smile turned a bit wicked, letting her lover know she’d been caught.

The time traveler blushed adorably, a hand coming up to rub the side of her neck. “Haaa. Sorry, luv, got…distracted.”

“I can see that,” Emily winked as she stepped forward to kiss Lena’s cheek, “and thank you for the compliment, sweet. But I was asking if you wanted a coffee? Didn’t you tell me you were interested in trying that, what was it…’cookie dough blast frapp’?” Emily’s nose wrinkled up a bit at the thought. “Not that one of those actually counts as _real_ coffee.”

Lena scoffed, but her eyes were dancing as she slipped a hand around her lover’s waist. “There is absolutely nothing out there requiring that coffee be served black as the pits, you know.”

“That sounds _exactly_ like what someone who wanted a cookie dough frapp would say,” Emily teased back, “so go on, there’s a Starbucks right there. You go pick me up an _actual_ coffee, grab your pretend coffee, and maybe I’ll stop in to this one and see if anything…catches my eye.”

Lena took another look at the corset. “Well…I guess I could go for a coffee, when you put it that way.”

Emily gave a gentle swat to the shorter woman’s backside. “Off you go, then.”

She waited for Lena to head for the coffee shop, then stepped towards the clubwear store’s doors…and slipped behind the tall red pillar box that sat a few feet away. Just as she’d hoped, the dark clad woman walked towards where she was waiting, then hesitated, apparently caught between moving to where she could observe the shop (had Emily been inside) or following Lena on her coffee run.

_Here goes something._

Emily stepped out from behind the box, clearing her throat softly. “I don’t bite, you know.”

Widowmaker whirled, and for a moment Emily worried that she was about to receive the same treatment as the thugs in that filthy alley, but the sniper’s expression was one of surprise, not anger.

“Come into the shop with me? I could always use a second opinion,” Emily offered, “you’ve probably noticed that Lena isn’t always the best judge of fashion.”

That drew a soft snort. Emily smiled, and Widowmaker didn’t quite smile back, but after a moment she nodded, and they went into the store.

“You should be afraid of me.” It was the first time Emily had ever heard her speak, and it made something flutter in her stomach, but it wasn’t fear. _You didn’t say she had a voice like_ THAT _, Lena._

“Should I?” Emily finally found a twin to the corset that had been on display in the window in her size, giving a soft “ah!” of satisfaction before turning around to look at the Frenchwoman while they spoke. “Far as I can tell, you’ve been protecting me – protecting us? – for the last…two months? Am I supposed to be afraid of the person who saved my life?”

Widowmaker shook her head. “I am not a person. I am a weapon. A tool.”

“Bollocks.” Emily looked at her and saw the confusion and pain behind the shimmer in the sniper’s golden eyes. “Tools don’t hand me back my purse after helping me up. Weapons don’t leave a box of my favorite pastry on the table.”

Emily suddenly understood what Lena meant about the woman getting a bit more purple, watching the rising blood change her skin to something closer to a pale amethyst shade.

“I didn’t tell Lena,” Emily offered, “because I wasn’t entirely sure I believed it myself. I thought I was in shock.”

“You were,” Widowmaker confirmed, looking away. “You passed out in your stairwell. I brought you into your apartment and let myself out through the balcony.”

Emily smiled. “Sounds like something a person would do.” She held up the corset against her skin. “So…thoughts on this?”

Widowmaker frowned, then shook her head. “Your skin is too pale for that one. So much dark green will make you look sick." She pointed to the rack. “The burgundy will compliment your hair. Black or silver would also flatter you.”

Emily considered that, then nodded. “I think you have a point. Let’s see about trying on the red, then.”

Widowmaker silently followed her as she took the corset to the changing rooms at the back.

“So,” Emily asked from the changing cubby as she removed her bra and top, “when did you start following us?”

“I…” Widowmaker’s voice trailed off from where she waited, then returned with a bit firmer tone as she made some kind of decision. “Six months ago.”

Emily nodded, pausing to concentrate on closing the corset busks before going on. “Next obvious question is why.”

Widowmaker’s voice softened. “I followed her. I was…I don’t know. I needed to follow her. To see more. I saw you both – saw you together.”

Emily gave a soft “ah” of understanding. “That’s how you knew about the lemon bars, isn’t it?”

“She buys them for you, sometimes.”

The redhead adjusted herself slightly, then opened the door. “You can use her name, you know. It’s not like it’s a secret from me. Anyway – could you help tighten the laces a bit?”

Widowmaker entered the booth, puzzlement written on her face, but did as she was asked. “Enough?”

Emily considered, then nodded. “Yes, thanks. So. You started following Lena, found out about me…and we know you’re considered to have gone rogue from Talon, by the way.”

The sniper gave a soft hum of acknowledgement, but didn’t volunteer more.

Emily examined herself in the mirror, then turned around. “How’s this look?”

Widowmaker considered the way the corset had cinched the pale woman’s waist, and the way it was accentuating her bust. Her eyes slid up to the scattershot of freckles that decorated the pale skin of her shoulders and neck, and Emily couldn’t help but notice the way those golden eyes were drinking her in.

“It looks…you wear it very well.”

Emily grinned. “I see.” She wanted to laugh, really. For being a woman who supposedly felt nothing, Widowmaker wasn’t a very good actress. “Well, I’m sure Lena will feel the same.” She turned around, gesturing towards her back. “If you could loosen the laces again, please?”

Widowmaker complied, and Emily decided to go back to an earlier thread of the conversation. “You said you needed to follow Lena. That wasn’t because of Talon, was it?”

Widowmaker stepped back, shaking her head. “They did not know I was there. I never told them you existed.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” Emily began to undo the busks, then stopped, “…have you watched me undress before? Because if it’s nothing new, I’ll go on, but if not, I’d rather leave a little to your imagination.”

There was that purple again. “…I’ll wait outside.”

Once she had the corset off and her shirt back on, Emily stepped out, the open corset hung over her arm. “So you watched us because Lena…does something for you? I know she’s said you seem to get more involved when the two of you fight.”

Widowmaker finally smiled, very slightly. “When we fight, I feel alive.”

Emily considered that. “So what do you feel when you watch us?”

Widowmaker’s face fell again. “I don’t know.”

“Hm.” Emily took the corset to the register. Lena ought to be back soon. She wasn’t sure if it would be good for her to see them together or not, yet. “Is it a good thing? What you feel?”

Widowmaker considered that as Emily paid for her purchase and took the bagged up corset, finally offering a shrug. “It is different. It is not what I feel when I fight, or the way I feel when I have killed. I am not sure if good or bad applies.”

Emily nodded. “Different, then. All right.” She looked through the shop’s window and saw a distinctive brush of dark hair moving through the afternoon shoppers. “She’s on her way back with the coffee. Would you like to talk to her?”

The color drained from Widowmaker’s face, leaving it something closer to an icy shade, her voice filled with something between surprise and hurt. “Was this a _trap_?”

Emily shook her head, keeping her tone gentle. “Just an invitation, that’s all. I wanted to say thank you. I wanted to…I needed to talk to you.” She offered a little smile.  “And I think you wanted to talk to me, too.”

“I do not think…” Widowmaker shook her head. “I am not ready.”

“OK,” Emily gestured towards the changing rooms. “Hide back there, if you like. I’ll take Lena home.” After a heartbeat, she made a decision of her own. “Lena will be going back to work tomorrow. If you are planning to stay around…maybe we could continue this conversation later?”

After giving Emily a slow nod, the Frenchwoman disappeared into the back just before the door chime announced her lover’s return.

“Sorry about the wait,” Lena apologized, “they were slamm…ooo, hullo. Find something you liked, then?”

“It was no problem at all, darling,” Emily took her coffee, then offered a little peck of thanks, “Let’s say I got a little unexpected advice. If you’re a good girl, perhaps I could give you a little show…”

Lena’s mouth turned up in a sly grin. “Oh, I think we both know I can be a _very_ good girl.”

“Promises, promises…”


	3. Black Coffee & Beating Hearts

Two days after Lena left for Gibraltar to start running more Overwatch missions, Emily came home from work to find Widowmaker sitting at the kitchen table in the same coat and slacks she’d worn when they met last, along with two cups of coffee and another box of lemon bars.

“ _Bonjour_.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she returned the Frenchwoman’s little wave. “Hello there. Give me a moment to hang up my coat?”

“Of course,” Widowmaker agreed, waiting for Emily to return before pointing to the cup at the other side of the table, “Black coffee, medium roast?”

Emily nodded, taking an appreciative sip after sitting down. “That’s right, thank you.” A thought occurred to her. “That’s not something you’d be able to see through a rifle’s scope. Exactly how closely were you tailing us?”

“It depended on the situation,” the sniper admitted, “on some occasions I could get quite close to Tr…to Lena, if I was fairly unobtrusive.”

“That’s my girl. Love her to bits, but she’s not always the most observant some days…” Opening the container, Emily picked out one bar before gesturing to the box. “You’re welcome to the other.”

“ _Merci._ ” Slender blue fingers took the bar before the taller woman took an experimental nibble. “This…is good. I wasn’t sure if I would like them.”

“Oh?” Emily raised an eyebrow. “Not much for sweets?”

Widowmaker shrugged. “Until I left Talon, my meals were normally nutritionally optimized ration bars, or by injection.”

Emily winced. “That sounds wretched.”

Widowmaker took another sip of the coffee. “I find that I must agree, now.”

“If I can ask…” Emily paused, trying to think of how to put her question. “Lena told me, once, that you were…someone else. Before Talon.”

“ _Oui._ ” Her eyes closed, and the sniper took a breath before continuing on. “Some things I remember too well. Others are vague. I used to dance. I _loved_ to dance. I still remember that. But what I ate, what I liked to eat…” She shook her head. “I was told once that I ought to have chocolate.” She shrugged. “It was tolerable, but did not…hm. Live up to the _hype._ ”

“I like a bit of dark chocolate now and then, but I’m happier with something like this – sweet and tart all in one.” Emily took a bite of the bar, as if to demonstrate. “Lena’s got a sweet tooth like you wouldn’t believe. I swear she’d eat ice cream for breakfast if she could.”

Widowmaker sighed. “Of course she would.”

Emily smiled. “So. Have you thought more about what we talked about back at Oxford Street?”

“You asked what I felt when I see you and Lena together.” There was a pause while she took a sip of the coffee. “I remember some of the good times with Gérard. How it felt. You…both of you…remind me.”

Emily took a drink and considered what to ask next. “So why did you decide to start following me?”

“At first I was curious. I wanted to know more about you.” Widowmaker’s golden eyes flicked away as she spoke again. “I was shocked, the first time I saw Lena kiss you.”

 _That_ was interesting. Emily found herself leaning in conspiratorially. “Oh, I _see._ Jealous?"

The former Talon agent scoffed. "It takes a beating heart to be jealous."

Emily leaned back with a chuckle. "Mmm, don’t be so sure. An ex of mine had one of those brushless coolant pumps. She didn’t like seeing me spending time with other girls at all. It was cute the first time she got a bit worked up, but ended up being a real problem. Dumped her a few weeks before I met Lena, in fact.”

Widowmaker’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “You were involved with an Omnic?”

Emily took another bite of her lemon bar with studied nonchalance. “I’ve been ‘involved’ with a lot of people. If I decided I liked them, the hardware wasn’t a concern.” She let that sink in for a moment before going back to her earlier question. “So, with that established – and I’m reasonably sure your heart is beating, by the by – _were_ you jealous?”

Widowmaker went silent again, and to Emily’s surprise she actually _fidgeted_ slightly in the chair. She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t resist. “Were you jealous of me? Or of Lena?”

When Widowmaker finally answered, her voice was barely a whisper. “Both of you, I think. For what you have, or what you are…for how you make each other feel.”

Emily reached out and placed her hand over Widowmaker’s. Her skin was cool, but not frigid. It was increasingly clear to her that this woman wasn’t nearly as cold as everyone believed.

Golden eyes met green, and for a moment it seemed that might have been too much. She left her hand there, no pressure, no words, and gave her guest time to process it all.

Widowmaker’s voice was thick with emotion. “Why are you doing this? Why do you…do you _treat_ me like this?”

Emily gave her a searching look, her voice quiet but absolutely certain. "Because I think you’re alone, and you don’t want to be, but you’re not able to figure out a way in."

“I am a killer.” Widowmaker’s voice was leaden as she looked away, her fingers sliding back from their contact. “Do you know how many times I nearly put a bullet through Lena’s heart? Through her skull?”

“Do you know how many people Lena has killed?” From the way her head came up, Emily could see that wasn’t what Widowmaker had expected to hear. “You and I both know her pistols don’t shoot paint pellets. She carries bombs that were originally meant for cracking Bastion units. She flew combat for the RAF before she went to Overwatch. She’s a hero, and she fights – has always fought – to protect people, and I love her _so much_ for that, but I’m also aware this isn’t a comic book.”

Widowmaker wouldn’t look at her. “I killed my husband. Murdered him in his sleep.”

Emily nodded. “Lena told me, once. She’d been drinking. She believed…still believes…it wasn’t really you pulling the trigger.”

Widowmaker shrugged. “Talon has done so many things to my mind, I do not know what I truly wished to do, or what they commanded me to do.”

Emily sipped the last dregs of her coffee. “Talon didn’t command you to protect me, did they?”

Widowmaker uttered a dark little laugh. “Of course not. As soon as they discovered you existed, Talon ordered their agents in London to find you, and take you…to be broken as I was.”

Now Emily was the one who felt chilled to her bones, until a sudden insight flashed through her mind. “That’s why you left, isn’t it? Talon ordered you to help.”

Widowmaker finally turned back to face her, and the look in her eyes told Emily she’d hit the mark. “The world has one Widowmaker,” she finally confirmed, “it does not need another.”

“So,” Emily offered softly, “that is one thing that I would say you most certainly decided to do, which Talon did not want.”

Widowmaker’s smile had little humor in it, and a great sadness in her eyes. “It seems you have me trapped after all.”

“Admitting you made a choice to do what you felt was right – that you wanted to protect someone – isn’t a trap.” Emily put her hand out on the table, her fingers curled up in a silent invitation. “While you were…under Talon’s influence…did you have friends?”

Widowmaker shrugged. “I had…colleagues.”

Emily shook her head. “Not the same.”

She considered that for a long moment. “I think perhaps I had one.”

Emily smiled. “Well, now you have one here.”

Hesitantly, Widowmaker put her hand in Emily’s. “I think that I would like that.”

Emily gently offered a reassuring squeeze.

After a moment, Widowmaker squeezed back.

Suddenly, something occurred to Emily. “You’re basically on the run – both from Talon and Overwatch?”

“Mm. INTERPOL, too.” She wasn’t surprised that Widowmaker seemed more comfortable discussing things to do with her ‘profession’ than her actual feelings.

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Where do you _sleep?_ ”

Widowmaker shrugged. “I was using a Talon safehouse, but after the police began investigating the squad I eliminated, that became difficult. Since then…” She took her hand back, then gestured towards the ceiling. “Rooftops. Sometimes underpasses.”

Emily frowned as she realized what that answer meant. “You’re on the _street?_ Seriously?”

“I keep my equipment in caches. I have my combat suit and these clothes, and it’s fairly easy to find an unoccupied apartment or hotel room to shower when necessary.” Widowmaker seemed to act as if this was completely normal. Perhaps for her it was. “Cold and wet do not concern me.”

“OK, no, that is _not_ on.” Emily stood, gesturing back into the apartment, her voice taking on a firm, businesslike aspect as she laid out a new plan. “We have a spare room, and Lena probably won’t be home for another two weeks – possibly three, if Winston has been keeping enough work waiting for her while she was on leave. Go collect…whatever you have, I suppose, and come straight back. I’ll see if I have some sweats that might fit – you’re not that much taller than I am – and we can do some laundry for you, and then we’re going to see about getting you some fresh clothes.”

Unable to respond for a moment, Widowmaker turned to look out the sliding door that lead to the balcony. “You truly want me to stay here?” Was that just a glimmer of hope in her voice?

Emily nodded firmly. “No matter what else you are, no matter what else you’ve done, you’ve saved my life at least twice now – and probably Lena’s in the bargain. I won’t have you sleeping on a bloody rooftop when I can give you a real bed.”

“… _D’accord._ I should be back in an hour.” As she reached to open the patio door, Widowmaker paused. “May I bring my rifle? It…can be comforting.”

Emily considered that, then looked back towards her bedroom. “We have a gun safe for Lena’s pistols and kit. It has a few slots for rifles that we’ve never needed before. Would you be OK with storing it there?”

“That is reasonable,” Widowmaker admitted, “thank you.”

“Of course.” Before she could disappear through the door, Emily thought of one last thing. “Before you go…do you _really_ like being called Widowmaker? Because it seems like it would be a bit silly to say ‘Good morning, Widowmaker, care for breakfast?’”

The amethyst blush was back in force when the sniper finally answered that question. “Amélie. _Je m'appelle_ _Amélie_.” She fired her grappling hook, and a moment later the balcony was empty.

Emily walked out onto the balcony, closing the door behind her and sitting down at the patio table. “See you in an hour, Amélie.”


	4. Creatures of Habit

Emily had honestly expected things to be more awkward. Amélie had certainly acted like she would need help adjusting to how to live outside of Talon’s strict controls, but she’d very quickly proven otherwise, to her host’s pleasant surprise.

“…are you doing the dishes?”

The assassin shrugged, her arms elbow deep in soapy water. “You cooked dinner. It seemed appropriate.”

“Well,” Emily explained, “I do appreciate it. Just didn’t expect it, is all.”

The Frenchwoman considered that, then returned to scrubbing out a pot. “Lena cleans when you cook. You clean when she cooks. If I am a guest here, I should clean when you cook.”

Emily smiled. “I suppose I can’t argue, when you put it that way. Do you know where everything needs to go, once you run the dishwasher?”

“I was trained to be very observant of detail,” Amélie observed dryly, “and have been keeping a watch on this building for some time.”

“Hah. Ask a stupid question…” Emily sighed, shaking her head. She’d been trying not to think too hard about being under a sniper’s protective eye for the last few months, but she kept finding herself bumping into that fact. “I think I may put a movie on. Care to join me when you’re done?”

Amélie snorted. “I shall have to check my appointment book.”

“Careful,” Emily replied with a smirk, “you’re doing real damage to your reputation of being a robot.”

Amélie didn’t respond in words, but there was the hint of a smile as she went back to cleaning.

This was not to say that there were not problems – most notably the following Monday morning, when Emily opened the bedroom door after dressing for work to find herself greeted by Widowmaker in her full combat suit, save for her weapon, the long coat she’d been wearing on the streets hanging open off her shoulders. “I will need my rifle if I am to cover your route.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Emily’s brain wasn’t really prepared to process anything before her morning coffee on the best of days, but this was really pushing it.

Amélie sighed, crossing her arms as she spoke. “You are going to be leaving the apartment. I have deterred the Talon operatives that I was aware of before my…departure. It is possible that there are more operating in this city. I will cover your route – for which I require my rifle.”

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. “I appreciate your concern – but you don’t think that would be a little conspicuous?”

“I’ve evaded detection in this city before.” There was that hint of a smile again. “How else would I have found you?”

“Hah.” Emily sighed, conceding the point. “Is the rifle really needed? You handled the ones in the alley with your bare hands.”

“I operate best when I have all options available.”

 _Of course she does._ “Right.” She was going to be late if she didn’t get going soon. “Let’s…can we compromise a bit?”

Amélie uncrossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening…”

“OK.” Emily took a breath, then tried to back up a few steps mentally. “I understand why you’re concerned. I know the entire reason you’re here is that you want to protect me. But I also don’t want to attract more attention, and flitting around the Thames with a rifle and a catsuit seems like a very good way to do that.”

“I have yet to hear you offer a compromise, _chérie._ ”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “I thought you saved that one for Lena.”

Amélie actually seemed to _pout_ slightly. “Get on with it. You will be late for work at this rate.”

“True enough.” Emily walked to the gun safe and began spinning the dial for the combination lock. “Do tell me you’re not watching? Lena would have a stroke if she knew you could unlock this.”

Emily had her back to the sniper, but she was quite sure if she’d turned the taller woman would have been smirking. “If she has told you about our fights, she has told you that no one can hide from my sight.”

“Lovely,” the redhead grumbled as she twisted the handle to open the safe’s door, “try not to let that slip until I’ve discussed the…situation…with her, then?”

“As you wish. Now, may I have my rifle?”

Emily respectfully removed the weapon and held it at port-arms, handing it over by the back of the stock. “For today, since you’re right about me being late. Tomorrow, though…what if you just took the tube with me, _without_ this, and you could browse the shops near the office? There’s a tea shop down the street that ought to give you a decent vantage point if you’re that concerned.”

The re-armed Widowmaker did a quick check of her rifle’s chamber and action, slapped in a magazine from a pouch on her suit, and nodded. “Tomorrow, I will do as you ask. For now…go. I will follow from the roof.”

“Sniper assisted commute,” Emily grumbled softly to herself as she half-ran down the stairs to the apartment building’s basement garage, “bloody marvelous.” She’d have to find parking for the car when she got to the office, but it would be faster than trying the tube or a cab at this rate.

“God’s sake,” she mused as she merged into the morning traffic leaving the Row, “I hope no one looks out the window at the wrong time. ‘No, Mr. Peel, I can explain, it’s just my girl’s best enemy, our new flatmate. She’s a sniper, you see, and she only feels comfortable when she’s set up with a rifle in an elevated position. Nothing to be concerned about!’ Hell.”

Lena had mentioned that one of the older gents who had helped set Overwatch up originally was married these days. Did _his_ wife have to deal with this sort of thing? Maybe there was a support group.

Despite a perverse fear that someone would spot her shadow and manage to lock down the building, the only danger Emily found herself in as the work day went on was falling asleep in the afternoon weekly conference call with their branch offices in New York. Struggling to keep herself focused on the seemingly endless march of presentation slides, she rewarded her Herculean efforts with a fresh coffee as she scrolled through a few last emails before packing up.

Hm. Dinner tonight was a question. She’d mostly stuck to basics so far. Amélie’s tastes had gone towards lighter fare, generally, so she’d made salmon, chicken, steamed veg and nothing terribly spicy or greasy. She could fancy a curry, but she tried to sate that craving when Lena was in town, given her girlfriend’s seemingly endless appetite for Indian cuisine. She had the car, so that wasn’t an issue…but she couldn’t exactly call her new guest and ask if she had any preferences to pick up on the way home, could she? Did Amélie even own a mobile?

How was she supposed to _talk_ to her if all she was going to do was watch from…oh. That’d work, wouldn’t it?

It took a few seconds to pop into her word processor and send it to the laser printer just outside her office door, then grab tape to attach her impromptu note to the windowpane.

 **MEET ME AT CAR IN 15 MINUTES.** **  
** **WHAT DO YOU WANT TO EAT?**

She waited five minutes, then took the paper down and tossed it into the shredder on her way out the door.

When she’d arrived at the car, just as she’d hoped, Amélie was leaning against one of the parking garage pillars, the shadows cast by the overhead lights helping to conceal her from casual interest.

“I suppose that suit of yours does have some purpose, if it lets you sneak around like that.” Unlocking the car, Emily popped the boot using the fob. “Weapons in the boot, please. If you take the visor off and keep the coat closed, I don’t think anyone will think twice.”

The taller woman rolled her eyes, gesturing to her exposed skin. “ _Seulement jusqu'à un certain point…_ ” Still, she put the visor and rifle in as asked, arranging the cargo net to keep them from jostling around.

Emily didn’t really speak French, but she understood sarcasm just fine. “It’s London. We’ve got three of _everything_ here, including smartass blue women. As long as we aren’t waving our hands and yelling for the police, anyone passing us in traffic is just going to see a woman with a ponytail.”

Amélie didn’t bother arguing as she slipped into the passenger seat. “You like Thai food, yes?”

“Mm. Love it, actually.” Emily waited until they’d cleared the parking garage and entered the stream of traffic before taking up the conversation. “Suppose you noticed that?”

The sniper hummed noncommittally. “I tried to be aware of your preferences, when I could determine them. It helped with trying to determine potential risks for engagements…”

“Ah.” Emily looked out the corner of her eye. Something about that answer didn’t ring entirely true, but she wasn’t going to press for now. “Have you had Thai before?”

Amélie was silent for a moment. “I can’t remember.”

Emily nodded. “It’s a bit more adventurous than what I’ve made for you so far. Do you think your stomach will tolerate it?”

“I think I should be able to handle it. It cannot be worse than Sombra’s attempts at cooking.”

Emily raised an eyebrow as she aimed the car towards one of her regular picks for takeaway. “Sombra? Who’s she, then?”

“You asked if I had a friend, before…I think she considered herself to be one.” Amélie frowned. “She always had her own reasons for anything she did, but she would treat me better than most. Gabriel…Reaper…was not always so considerate.”

Emily couldn’t help a shiver. “Heard about him, once or twice. Never seemed the considerate _type_ , if I’m honest.”

That drew a soft snort. _"_ _Non._ ”

She happily let that subject drop. “But this Sombra cooked for you, then? That does sound nice, as that sort of thing goes. Like what a friend would do.”

There was a brief flick of her passenger’s long ponytail. “You never had to try to eat the results.”

“Little secret,” Emily admitted conspiratorially, “if Lena offers to make anything that isn’t pancakes or bangers and mash, you’ll probably need to fall back on that experience.”

That piqued more interest. “I saw her scramble eggs. They looked…passable.”

“Passable,” Emily observed dryly, “is certainly a word one could use to describe them, if being charitable.” Honestly, she’d meant well and the seasonings she’d added weren’t _bad_ , but leaving the pan on the stove while she’d been trying to check up on the Arsenal match had left the results rather vulcanized. Fortunately, Emily had developed a gift for braving her way through Lena’s culinary adventures long ago. “There’s a _reason_ I cook if she’s not getting takeaway, and I’m leaving it at that.”

Amélie shrugged. “Before…I do not think I was much for cooking. I would get a glass of wine while Gérard cooked, when he was home. Otherwise I tended to dine _au micro-onde,_ if I did not go out.”

“Well,” Emily smiled as she parked the car in front of 101 Jade, “you’ve got that much in common. Do you want to come in with me while I place the order, or wait here?”

“I’ll wait outside the shop. Is there a menu?”

“Yeah,” Emily confirmed as they left the car and she locked up, “they have one posted in the window. Mind a suggestion?”

For the first time since the mention of Reaper, the Frenchwoman’s lips turned up in a smile. “It seems you would be the expert…”

* * *

After being introduced to mee krob, curry puffs, green papaya salad, shrimp pad thai, and chicken pad prik king, Amélie decided that she appreciated the more sour and sharp flavors in those dishes compared to some of the other ‘regular’ food she had tried. Emily had cautioned that most of what she’d ordered had been on the mild side of the heat scales, but Amélie had found it pleasing and flavorful, not overwhelming.

Besides, she recalled what Sombra considered ‘mild’, and it usually had the ability to etch steel if left on the countertop long enough.

She wondered what the hacker thought of her decision. She’d almost certainly been aware of how much time Widowmaker had spent in London, and would easily connect the dots between Talon’s decision to ‘acquire’ the Overwatch agent’s lover and her decision to…hm. What to call this? ‘Defection’ implied she’d openly approached Overwatch, and that certainly wasn’t the case. ‘Departure’ was a fair description, but it also implied the possibility of return, which she would never do willingly.

Ah. ‘Desertion’. That was probably the best category for it, when she considered the options.

She thought the hacker would be amused. Sombra had enjoyed subtly placing _sabot_ into the gears that drove Talon for quite some time, and perhaps the biggest act of sabotage was that Widowmaker had known since she’d caught Sombra’s deliberate bungling of the Volskaya assassination, and said nothing.

Gabriel had his own agenda. Sombra had her own agenda.

Amélie was starting to form her own, she supposed. She didn’t care about Overwatch. Did she want revenge on Talon? Not for her sake, really. Killing the men who had transformed her wouldn’t magically return her to some uncorrupted state. It wouldn’t bring Gérard back.

If she wanted anything along those lines, it was to ensure that Talon never twisted a life like hers ever again. Which had led her here.

Beyond that…

She sat on the balcony patio and looked out to where she could just see the golden glow of the Mondatta memorial at the edge of the skyline. She had trouble saying she felt regret or shame for killing the monk. It had been an assignment and she’d executed it, but she no longer reveled in the act as she once had.

The fight with Tracer – with _Lena_ – on the other hand…yes, _reveled_ was exactly the word for that. The way she’d felt as they’d danced. The burning passion in the younger woman’s eyes. The electric thrill she’d felt, her heart pounding against her ribs, as they’d walked the razor’s edge together.

Every time they fought, she was _alive._

The more she’d seen how Lena lived, how Lena laughed, how Lena went from moment to moment with that same breakneck speed…it wasn’t the same, not exactly, but it gave Amélie something close, she thought.

She still couldn’t define what she felt when she saw Emily.

At first she thought it was simply shock at the woman’s existence, but that sensation had faded.

Was she envious of them? Was that the right word? She didn’t quite think it fit.

Emily wasn’t afraid of her.

Emily wasn’t intimidated by her.

Emily _stood up_ to her.

That was refreshing, honestly.

A woman who could live with everything that went along with Lena Oxton. A woman who saw all the madness and shadows that Overwatch and Talon occupied, and held herself firmly in a ‘normal’ life. Who wrapped a blanket around her lover and held her until a nightmare had eased. Who had greeted the world’s most notorious assassin with thanks.

The more bizarre and chaotic oddities that surrounded her, the more this woman seemed to dig her roots into the ground, and refused to be ripped up.

Some part of her mind considered them both, reviewing them as if recalling the dossier of a target.

_Lena sleeps with the accelerator on if she is alone, but hangs it by the bed when Emily is with her._

_Emily likes black coffee and tart or citrus flavored pastries._

_Lena keeps a clock in every room._

_Emily has tried to keep house plants three times since surveillance began. None survived more than two weeks._

_Lena drinks tea with honey and lemon, and apparently has never met a sweet she didn’t like._

_Emily is a light sleeper, but sleeps an average of an hour and a half longer when she has Lena with her._

_Lena regularly drinks a beer with dinner. Often drinks two or three while watching television in the evening. Does not appear to drink to excess._

_Emily will drink a beer if Lena gives her one, but opens a bottle of wine when alone, or since I have been overtly present. Prefers dry over sweet wine, but mentioned drinking Moscato on her birthday._

_Neither woman appears to drink hard liquor._

_Lena will eat Indian food if given any excuse._

_Emily appears to have an extensive knowledge of Thai food. Likely her favorite._

_Lena laughs with her whole body._

_Emily laughs with her eyes._

_Lena eats cereal on weekday mornings and cooks pancakes on weekends._

_Emily prefers yogurt and fruit, occasionally oatmeal._

_Lena watches political commentary, comedies with a slant towards social issues, and spy movies._

_Emily watches shows about cooking, motor vehicles, and fantasy movies._

_Lena is an Arsenal fan but prefers to watch their matches at the pub._

_Emily wears a Wasps rugby kit on their match days if she is not at work._

_Lena runs._

_Emily jogs._

_Lena flirts constantly._

_Emily…appears to prefer seduction._

The image of Emily trying on the burgundy corset suddenly flashed in her mind at that thought.

_I’d rather leave a few things to your imagination._

What had _that_ meant?

She tried to push the memory to the back of her mind. One last comparison replaced it.

_Lena fights._

_Emily protects._

She could see the contrasts between the two women so easily. See the ways they complemented and strengthened each other.

Amélie let herself back into the apartment and tried to think of herself the same way. What qualities defined her these days? What preferences could she be said to have?

Her mind turned without returning satisfactory answers until she had fallen asleep, the alarm set to wake her an hour before Emily normally rose for work.

As Emily had asked, the next day Amélie escorted her to work on the train. To her surprise, no one commented on her unique skin tone, eyes, or hair color. It helped that the London weather had turned, once again, to pouring rain. With a long coat and a broad hat, the shadows helped to conceal her unique features. Part of her still wished for her the comforting weight of the Widow’s Kiss slung over her shoulder or held in her hands, but at least she had squeezed her grappling gauntlet into the broad mouthed messenger bag she had tucked beneath her arm.

That might be considered bending their agreement, but she’d removed the poison reservoirs and her dwindling supply of venom mines from the integral launcher. It was merely there to allow for rapid mobility, nothing more. If Emily required extraction, this would allow her to scale the building…but should it be necessary, the plated gauntlet _would_  give her a slight edge in a melee over an unarmed strike.

After Emily disappeared into depths of the office building in which she worked (Amélie wasn’t actually certain _what_ the redhead actually did in there, but it afforded her a modest office and paid for a reasonably high standard of living without requiring Lena to have income, as far as she could determine) she walked to the tea shop that Emily had mentioned. The view of the offices wasn’t ideal, but could be tolerable.

The larger problem was the shop being so crowded, thanks to the weather, that there was barely room to stand.

She purchased an insulated travel mug with folding money and had it filled with the shop’s blend of the day – something called a ‘Duke Cardiff’ that had a slightly spicy scent, and an aftertaste of something a bit like dried fruits. Sipping slowly at it, she savored the sensation of warmth as it slipped down her throat, and began a leisurely paced walk through the rain, following a seemingly random pattern among the offices and boutiques that was anything but.

A full circuit took her just under a half hour. She would make twelve more rounds, periodically visiting the tea shop and purchasing a refill for the tea just irregularly enough to keep from standing out, before waiting just past the entrance to the office building for Emily to emerge at the end of her day.

She spotted the redhead’s distinctive figure as she came out of the doors and fell into step behind her within moments.

 _"Bonjour_.”

To her continued credit, Emily did not startle or stop, just turned her head enough catch her shadow with the corner of her eye. “Did you have a good day?”

Amélie considered that for a moment, then looked down to the nearly empty mug she now held in her off hand. “It was well enough.”

Emily’s side eyed look turned sly. “I suppose you’ll tell me tomorrow you want to get on the damned rooftops again, to vary the routines?”

She shrugged in response. It _was_ an operationally sound suggestion. “I doubt your employer would allow me to use the adjacent office.”

“Don’t I wish,” Emily snorted, “Morris dragged half our projects out by an extra month last year. You not actually working for us in his place might be an improvement.”

Amélie considered that for a long moment.

“You are _not_ ,” Emily chided, “allowed to assassinate my coworkers.”

“There are many ways he could be…moved aside. Disabling shots. A broken leg.” Really, it wouldn’t even take a considerable effort.

The redhead turned enough to fully look her in the eye. “No.”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, her voice dripping with mock disappointment. “If you _insist._ ”

“I have to,” Emily continued on puckishly as she lead them into the Underground, “Lena wanted to kill him six months ago. I couldn’t possibly let you jump the line.”


	5. Miscommunication & Escalation

Feeling a bit like a teenager trying to sneak in past curfew, Lena carefully slid the key into the lock of her front door at six on a Saturday morning, turning the bolt as slowly as she could to make sure she didn’t scrape against the striker plate.

She hadn’t wanted to tell Emily there was a chance she’d get home a week early because she honestly hadn’t thought it would happen, but the missions that Winston had placed her on went much smoother and faster than anyone had really expected.

Talon was… _fractured_ , for lack of a better word. Disorganized. Something that seemed to go deeper than Widowmaker falling off the face of the Earth. They’d found individual cells not receiving orders from their commanders, leaks leading them to larger facilities, and – in one memorable case – two different factions were already engaged in shooting each other when the Overwatch strike team had arrived.

Lena wouldn’t have complained if they’d let the bastards kill each other and then come in to sweep up the mess after, but Angela had been adamant that they had to prevent needless loss of life, even when it meant saving Talon goons, and she had a point.

Winston had set Athena on decrypting the files they’d been pulling out of the facilities they’d cracked, but the AI hadn’t been able to make much headway, yet. Once she had, perhaps they’d learn more about why the terrorist organization seemed to be undergoing some form of schism.

Until then, Lena wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and she was looking forward to surprising Emily this morning, even if it had meant flying through the night to make it happen.

Moving like a cat burglar, she slipped into the foyer, then shut the door just as quietly. She’d just passed the kitchen when she realized she could hear the shower running. Oooo. Now _there_ was an idea.

Carefully unbuckling the accelerator, she slipped out of it and set it by her feet, then slid out of her Shearing jacket, tossing it back onto the couch, and stepped out of her shoes. She was about to undress the rest of the way, the better to ambush her lover, when she heard the water stop.

Lena’s face fell with disappointment and a whispered “Aw, _rubbish_.” Still, she picked up the accelerator to head for the bathroom anyway. At the very least, a freshly scrubbed Emily hug was not to be missed.

The bathroom door opened, and Lena had been about to offer a purring _Hello, lovely_ when a taller figure than she’d expected stepped out, one towel wrapped around her head, another wrapped around her chest in sharp contrast to her exposed blue skin, and Lena’s words died in her throat with a shocked gasping sound that made Widowmaker turn to face her, golden eyes widening in surprise.

They stood for a good thirty seconds before Widowmaker looked back towards the master bedroom and placed a finger to her lips in the universal gesture for _‘Shh’._

Lena gave the sniper an annoyed glance, but kept her voice down as she took a step closer, gesturing towards the bathroom. “What are you doing in my shower?”

The assassin gave a shrug that Lena had to admit did rather interesting things to the towel that just barely preserved her modesty, her voice deadpan. “I have been informed I would not fit in your washing machine.”

Lena couldn’t even process that for a moment, finally falling back to the original question as she sunk to new depths of confusion. “But what are _you_ doing in  _my_ shower?”

Widowmaker rolled her eyes, a quite familiar exasperation in her answer. “What do _you_ do in your shower, _chérie_?”

Lena’s brows knit. “Well, wash myself, _obviously_ , but…”

The (former?) Talon operative nodded as Lena trailed off, not quite able to express why this entire situation was completely ridiculous. “There is your answer, then.” Shaking her head, she turned, heading through the door to the guest bedroom, shaking her head with disappointment as she fired her parting shot. “I thought you had a faster wit than this.”

As if to prove her point, Lena stood gawping for a good four, five seconds as the guest room door closed, her brain finally passing through the disbelief to reach a rich vein of anger as she pushed open the guest room door. “… _OI!_ ”

“Mmm?” Widowmaker turned to face her, letting the towel that had been around her torso fall to the floor. “I already asked you to keep your voice down, Lena, you’ll wake Emily.”

Lena felt a furious blush rising on her face as she got a good look at the Frenchwoman’s naked body, and confirmed for her own files that the carpet did in fact match the drapes, regardless of what Angela had claimed about hair coloration. Forcing herself to turn around so she wouldn’t continue to stare, she tried to rein herself in, now feeling hopelessly off balance as she shrugged back into the accelerator, leaving the leg rigging dangling off her hips. “How do you know her _name_ ? How do you know  _my_ name? How do you know this is where I _live?_   What are you _doing_ here? _ What in God’s name is going on?” _

There was a rustle of fabric and when Lena turned enough to look out of the corner of her eye, Widowmaker had pulled a sports bra on, and was stepping into a pair of black sweatpants as she spoke. “Because I have been observing both of you for more than six months, because I have been protecting Emily from Talon, and because she would not hear of me sleeping on the streets.”

Lena turned to face her enemy again as her mind continued to reel. “You’ve been _what?”_

Widowmaker seemed about to give another pithy answer when she looked past Lena’s shoulder and stopped, straightening up with a frown.

Lena spun around to see Emily standing in the doorway in the long white negligee Lena had gotten for her last birthday, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Who are you tal…oh. Hullo, beautiful, you’re back early.”

Lena shrugged, her voice dumbfounded. “Job went smoother than we’d thought it would. Was gonna surprise you.”

“Well.” Emily gestured towards Widowmaker, her voice still a bit groggy. “Surprise.”

“I…yeah?” Lena looked from Emily to Widowmaker and then back. “Surprise is a word here. Em, what the _fuck?!”_

Emily looked up to make eye contact with Widowmaker. “Coffee, please, and put the kettle on.”

“ _D’accord.”_ Stepping around Lena, the Frenchwoman offered what sounded like a remarkably genuine _‘Excusez-moi’_ on her way to the kitchen.

“Sorry,” the redhead apologized as she rubbed the side of her head, “I thought I had another week to figure out how to tell you about all this.” She gave her lover a halfhearted glare. “You’re supposed to call when you’re coming home, you know.”

“I’ve been flying home the past _six bloody hours!_ It was going to be romantic! Not…” Lena trailed off, giving a wordless gesture of frustration towards the kitchen.

“It would have been normally,” Emily admitted softly, and stepped over to offer a hug, gently wrapping her arms around Lena’s waist. “I’m all right, ok? This has been the _strangest_ month, but…I’m all right.”

Lena returned the embrace slowly at first, then clung on tightly. _This_ made sense, at least. “You’re OK? She didn’t…?”

“Hurt me? No. Absolutely not. Quite the opposite, in fact.” Emily’s firm assurance didn’t make any of this _easy_ or _better_ , exactly, but it helped. The more Lena had been thinking about the implications of _Widowmaker is in my_ _home_ _,_ the more she’d started to feel ice in her guts.

“You probably want a fresh change of clothes, and I wouldn’t mind jumping in the shower myself,” Emily suggested, “so let’s take care of that. Then we can all sit down in the kitchen and I’ll do my best to explain what’s been going on, alright?”

Lena took a moment to think that through, then nodded. “Yeah, that…that’s a start, anyway.”

When they regrouped in the kitchen, Lena was surprised to find a cup of tea waiting for her – by the scent, exactly as she preferred to take it. She took an experimental sip and it was…perfect, actually.

_Well. I suppose if she’s been watching us for six months she ought to know how I take my cuppa._

Widowmaker silently handed Emily a mug of black coffee, which the redhead took with a nod of thanks, then poured herself a second cup before leaning against the counter while the other two women sat down at the table.

“So,” Emily looked over at Widowmaker thoughtfully, “would you like to explain things, or should I?”

The Frenchwoman considered that, then placed her coffee on the counter top. “What I told you in my room was true. I began…” She paused, then seemed to back up. “Did you ever wonder why I sought you out on the battlefield, again and again?”

Lena took a sip of her tea before she answered. “I wasn’t sure, but I had a couple of ideas. At first I thought it was simply that I was a target you hadn’t been able to put down – trying to keep your scorecard clean.”

Widowmaker shook her head slightly. “That was not it. So – your other theory?”

“It didn’t take long for me to notice that if you were fighting with anyone else…it was different than when we fought. You were…colder. Almost as if you were bored.” Lena looked thoughtfully into golden eyes, catching a flash of approval there. “You get…got…something from fighting me. Something you needed.”

“Very good, _chérie._ ” Widowmaker’s lips turned up in a surprisingly genuine smile. “You are one of the most challenging…the most exciting. When I fought you, I felt things I was not supposed to be able to feel. To remember what it was like…what I was like…before. A few offered decent battles – the Ninja is quite impressive – but only you gave me that. I needed more.” Widowmaker’s voice softened as she looked into her coffee mug. “I _wanted_ more.”

“What she means,” Emily noted dryly, “is she had a bit of a crush.”

Widowmaker rolled her eyes. “So you claim.”

Emily snorted. “Six months of following my girl home? That’s a _hint_ , Amélie.”

Lena could feel her brows knitting. “You remember that name? Who you were?”

“I never forgot,” Widowmaker admitted quietly, “I just didn’t _care_. That…began to change.”

Lena scowled. “Last time I called you Amélie, you _shot me in the foot._ ”

The blue woman sighed. “You were being annoying, and I was not ready to admit that name still had meaning. Besides, you made it disappear.”

Lena gave her a scathing look. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t _hurt_.”

“Lena,” Emily tapped her mug against the table, “let her finish.”

Lena shot her lover a disbelieving look. “Are you on her side now?”

“Darling, I love you, but I would be lying if I said there hadn’t been days where _I_ wanted to shoot you.” Emily took another drink of her coffee. “I’m on _my_ side. Which also means being on _both_ of your sides, right now. At the moment, that means _let her finish_. Please.”

Lena sighed. “Right, go on…”

 _“Merci.”_ Nodding to Emily, Widowmaker tried to pick up the thread of the conversation. “But…as I said. I wanted to know more. I wanted to try understanding what you did to me. How you could live so…”  The words seemed to elude her for a moment before the hint of a violet blush touched her cheeks. “Passionately.”

Emily gave Lena a conspiratorial look, her eyebrow raised. _See what I mean?_

Lena hoped the glance she offered in exchange properly communicated how _utterly mental_ that entire idea was. Still…well. Widowmaker had never been hard to look at, and seeing her like this was _different_ , at least.

Widow – _Amélie –_ cleared her throat after a moment, and Lena dragged her focus back to the taller woman, motioning for her to go on.

“I began to arrange…absences from Talon. I made a deal with Sombra. She concealed my movements. I began to make trips to London, shadowing you. Observing. Trying to learn more. Trying to understand.”

Lena titled her head thoughtfully. “What’s she getting from this? Deals have to have two sides.”

Amélie shifted uncomfortably. “She…told me that she wanted a friend. Someone who could conceal a few of her secrets, in turn.”

Lena filed that away for later. “But you didn’t just find me, did you?”

“ _Non_ , I found you both.” Amélie looked over to the redhead. “As I told her…I was quite surprised.”

Lena suddenly gave the sniper a sharper look. “Is that how Reaper knew I had a girlfriend?”

The sniper shook her head, sending her ponytail whipping out. “Absolutely not. I told no one what I learned.” Her eyes narrowed. “Talon’s intelligence arm…might have given the information to Gabriel. But…” Sighing, she looked to the table. “It is possible Sombra knew the entire time, and gave him the information after Talon began to move. She has always had her own agenda, and he has been part of it for some time.”

Lena took a sip of her tea before deciding there wasn’t a percentage in pushing that. “Mm. OK, sorry, go on.”

“When I saw you both…I realized I was seeing so much of what I had lost.” Her voice quieted again. “What had been taken from me. I knew what Talon would do, if they had proof that Tracer – that you – were involved with a woman leading an ordinary life.” Amélie shut her eyes, her body language closing up. “I knew _exactly_ what they would do. I could not allow that to happen again. For her sake, and for yours.”

Lena watched Emily very carefully size up their apparent houseguest. “It goes a little further than that. You needed to do it for yourself, not just for us. It’s alright to admit that. You _should_ be doing things for yourself.”

“…for all of our sakes, then.” Amélie pursed her lips for a moment, finally opening her eyes again as she straightened in the chair. “I thought it would be enough to remain in the shadows. Silent. Subtle. A force unseen and unnoticed, but which Talon most certainly would feel. But things…escalated.”

Lena’s voice was a hushed murmur. “Six dead Talon agents found across London.”

_“Oui.”_

Lena looked over to Emily, who offered a grave nod. “I’d thought I had caught glimpses, now and then. It’s part of why I asked you about her. I wasn’t _sure_ …and then she was there. She tore them apart, then got me back on my feet so I could run.” The redhead looked over to her savior, her voice apologetic. “No offense, but that was one of the most terrifying experiences of my entire life.”

Lena saw a flash of pain in her lover’s eyes and reached out to take her hand, squeezing her fingers gently. “That sort of thing usually is.”

To her surprise, the assassin nodded agreement. “I did not wish to expose you to such things, but I was given little choice. Witnessing a few moments of such violence was far better than what Talon had planned for you.”

Lena could feel Emily shiver through their linked fingers. “Right. Believe me, I’m not complaining about you saving my life, you know.”

Amélie gave a little shrug. “Regardless…yes. Once Talon ordered Emily’s abduction, I made my way to London as quickly as I could. There were also some individual agents who had been starting to track her to prepare for the kidnapping. I…neutralized them.”

Lena looked over to Emily, who had gone even more pale than usual. Time for a change of subject. “So…after that. What happened, exactly? How did you get from beating up six thugs in an alley and disappearing to living in my flat?”

Emily recovered a bit of her color and then some as a blush spread across her face. “That was because of me, really. It…do you remember when I sent you for coffee while we were shopping? Day before you left?”

Lena straightened up. “I just thought you caught me peeking and decided to get me out of the way while you picked up the corset.”

Emily chuckled. “Well. Partially…but I had also realized Amélie was following us. So I decided to try talking to her.”

Lena raised an eyebrow at the way Amélie’s expression shifted. “While trying on a corset?”

Amélie looked distinctly uncomfortable. “I waited outside the changing room for that.” That was a bit funny, considering she was still wearing nothing but a sports and a pair of sweatpants.

“Mostly,” Emily agreed, “but I did make her come in and lace me up.”

Part of Lena wanted to laugh at the way Amélie’s cheeks were…well, burning wasn’t quite the right word, given the tones of her skin. Blooming, perhaps? Shaking her head, she settled for giving Emily a gentle kick under the table. “Right…and what happened aside from that, exactly?”

Emily kicked Lena right back as she took over the explanation. “Amélie…well, at the time I only knew to call her Widowmaker, started to explain some of what she told you. We talked briefly about it. When I noticed you were on the way back, I offered that she could stay. She told me she wasn’t ready to speak to you yet, so I offered that she could come by later, after you went back to work.”

“I…huh.” Lena looked over to Amélie. “So…are you OK with talking to me, now?”

The sniper shrugged. “I am not sure…but I am trying. You are…” She shook her head. “Both of you are quite…unique.”

Lena huffed a soft laugh. “I suppose that’s a compliment. So you…what, stopped by for tea?”

Amélie gave Lena a dubious look. “You and I both know she drinks coffee – as do I.”

Lena sighed. “Tea can be a _time_ , you know. Meal between lunch and supper?”

Amélie scoffed. _“English.”_

Emily looked up at the ceiling as if entreating the heavens for patience. “I swear to God I will send you both to your rooms. Behave.”

“OK,” Lena raised a hand, “sorry. So you came by to have a coffee and a chat?”

“In so many words,” Amélie looked over at the redhead before continuing, “we had a very similar discussion to this. Near the end I admitted that since Scotland Yard had discovered several of the Talon safehouses I was aware of, after the fight in the alley, I had been sleeping…unconventionally.”

Emily pinched the bridge of her nose. “She means she was sleeping on the street. Or on rooftops. I wasn’t going to let that go on – not when we had a spare bed.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Lena admitted, “but you really _could_ have called at that point.”

“What would I have said?” Emily mimed dialing and held her hand up to her ear, fingers curled to suggest holding a phone. “Hullo, beautiful, look, don’t get worked up but I’m putting the assassin you’ve been worried about for the past three months up in our spare room. Pick up extra toilet paper and paper towels on the way home, would you?”

“Right, fine, OK…” Lena sighed. “So, what now?”

Amélie shrugged. “I have been escorting Emily to and from work – covertly at times, accompanying her on the train or in the car at others. I patrol the area, but there has been no sign of Talon making another attempt to attack her, which…concerns me. They normally do not abandon an objective so easily.”

“Actually,” Lena straightened up, “ I think I may be able to answer that. We’ve seen evidence of some kind of… _fragmenting_ , I guess, within Talon. At first we thought there was just something brewing over between some of the different power bases, but it’s been more than that. It’s like they started tearing themselves apart from the inside.”

Emily’s brows knit. “Why? I mean, I guess they’re ‘the baddies’, but I thought the leaders fighting each other for power only happened in the kids’ shows.”

“Talon has never been an organization that fostered trust,” Amélie noted, then looked thoughtful. “I…as I said, Sombra has had her own agenda involving Talon for some time. She may have seen an opportunity once I left.”

Lena tapped her fingers against the tabletop. “That’d fit, yeah…she seems the type to kick over an anthill.”

“At times,” Amélie admitted, “and she is…she has never truly been _loyal_ to Talon. They were always a means to an end. Perhaps aiding one faction over the other will suit her. Perhaps more than one, as long as she gets what she requires.”

“About what we always figured,” Lena admitted, “but…hm. I probably should share some of this with Winston, at least.” She gave the taller woman a speculative glance. “Is there anything else you’d be willing to tell him about Talon? If they asked, would you be willing to go to Gibraltar with me? Could get you a proper checkup, even. Get an idea of what all Talon’s done to you.”

“I did not come here to join Overwatch,” Amélie stood, her voice icy, “I came here for _her_. If it will assist in protecting her…protecting you…I will consider it. But I am not leaving this city, and I am certainly not going to allow your ‘Mercy’ to examine me.”

Lena bristled. “Oi, I said _talk_ , not join up. You want to help protect Em? Helping us shut Talon down accomplishes that, and good intel will help us knock them out faster.”

“ _If_ it is used –”

Emily interrupted the brewing argument by slamming her open hand onto the tabletop with a sharp _crack_ that drew both women’s attention to her. “Right, that’s _enough_.” Her eyes flashed as she stood, glaring furiously at both women. “Lena, bedroom. Amélie, balcony – _without_ your grapple, thank you. Take ten. I’ll be in to talk to each of you after you’ve cooled off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Nika!](nikanono.tumblr.com)


	6. Balancing Acts

Emily gave herself a time out as well. She’d been close to losing her own temper at the way both her lover and her new friend had tacitly agreed she needed their constant supervision, and that wouldn’t have helped anything.

Grabbing an orange from the basket after she’d confirmed that Lena and Amélie had both gone to their respective corners, she sectioned and peeled it, focusing on putting a little food into her stomach to help with calming herself down.

Once the orange was gone and her anger cooled, she took a deep breath and rummaged in the kitchen junk drawer until she found a 50p coin.

“Right. Heads your girlfriend, tails your sniper.” The coin flicked into the air, and Emily waited for it to fall against the kitchen floor, spinning for a moment before finally landing with the royal crest staring up at the ceiling.

_Sniper it is._

As she walked through to the living room she could see Amélie staring off into the early morning sky from one of the patio chairs, her hair roughly gathered and put up with an elastic.

Emily tapped on the balcony door to make sure she wouldn’t startle the trained assassin, waiting for the Frenchwoman to invite her onto the balcony with a curt nod of her head.

She took the facing chair, waiting to see if Amélie would start the conversation. After another minute of silence, Emily decided some initiative was needed. “How’re you feeling?”

Amélie shrugged, but finally sat back in the chair so she could make proper eye contact. “I can leave, if you wish. Go back to the rooftops.”

“Did I say anything about that?” Emily raised an eyebrow. “Did I imply at any time that I wanted that?”

“Tracer…”

“ _Lena_ , god love her, does not pay the rent. Nor did _she_ say anything about kicking you out.” Emily considered what to say next for a moment. “You two were doing OK there until she suggested visiting Gibraltar. A little snippy but no worse than I’d expected – you were even getting a little playful.”

Amélie scoffed. “I was _not_.”

“ _English_ ,” Emily did her best at imitating a French accent, then returned to her normal tones, “You’ve been here for long enough for me to recognize you have a sense of humor.” The older woman ducked her head slightly, and Emily put a hand out to her. “Still, that’s not what I asked.”

“It is not,” Amélie admitted quietly, looking at the offered hand but not quite moving to take it, “no, neither of you asked me to leave. But you have her here, now, and I…”

Emily kept quiet. Now it was her turn to wait the sniper out, and after a few minutes, she picked up the thread again.

“I do not want to go to Gibraltar. I do not want to leave London while you may still need protection…but I also do not want to be ‘taken in’ by Overwatch.”

Emily nodded. It wasn’t the only thing bothering Amélie, she could tell that, but it was a start. “Is it something you can explain to me?”

The former Widowmaker shrugged, looking back out at the city. “I will try.” She sighed. _“Il me faut une cigarette.”_

“Sorry,” Emily apologized, “neither of us smoke.”

“I used to,” Amélie tapped a finger against her lips, miming taking a drag and letting out a slow breath, “Gérard convinced me to quit. Talon would never have allowed it. I find myself frustrated with both right now. It would be nice to have one. It feels like it would help me think.”

Emily shrugged. “It’s a filthy habit to me, but you’re a grown woman. Just keep it outside, if you do start back up?”

The Frenchwoman huffed a soft laugh. “I doubt I shall. With what has been done to me, who knows what it could do? After all,” she chuckled bitterly, “I have a heart condition.”

She took a deep breath through her nose and held it for a long time, finally letting it go softly out of her mouth. “I am _not_ a hero, Emily. I do not want to _be_ a hero. I may not be a villain, you have convinced me of that, but I know who I am, and what I have done.”

Emily frowned, but stayed quiet, waiting for her to go on.

“It is more than that, though,” Amélie finally admitted, “I was almost captured by them, once.”

“Lena never told me about that.” Emily straightened a bit in the chair, her interest piqued.

“Lena was not there.” The sniper went quiet again for a moment as she considered what to say. “It was _L’ange_ , her falcon, ‘76’, and Amari. I had been sent to ensure an arms deal would not be…interrupted. The four of them had tipped off by someone about the trade. I do not think they expected to encounter me, but they responded quickly.”

Emily made an interested noise, motioning for her to go on.

“I had been sniping from a dockyard crane. 76 used a rocket to destroy one of the legs supporting it. I tried to grapple to another perch, but my line snapped. A lucky shot, or an exceptionally skilled one. I may never know. The younger Amari caught me before I hit the ground, but I was stunned by the collision. She brought me to Ziegler, and even before we had landed Angela was falling all over herself promising to ‘fix’ me, to find what had been done to me, to ‘bring me back.’ As if I was _broken_.”

“You called yourself broken, once,” Emily objected mildly, “what’s different about how she did it?”

“I recognize that Talon changed me. I am not a fool.” Amélie shivered slightly, and Emily felt a pang of concern. “She looked at me…like I was a machine that simply needed a replacement part. As if she could wave her staff over me and the last decade would somehow disappear, and I would magically be the woman I was before Talon took me.”

“In its own way,” Emily admitted, “what she wanted would be as bad as what Talon did to you. Forcing you to become someone more to their liking.”

“ _Yes,_ ” her guardian hissed intensely,“ _c’est exactement._ I do not…” She paused. “There are things I regret. There are things I wish had not happened. But they _happened_ , and this is _who I am_ , now. Take them from me and what would I be? _Who_ would I be? The ‘Amélie’ they want is a fiction. A doll. A _thing._ ”

“I don’t think Lena has ever wanted that for you,” Emily offered, “for what that is worth.”

 _"Non._ She’s never known me as anyone else, and I thought…” Amélie looked away again. “Part of what made fighting with her so beautiful was I thought she _saw_ me. Who I _am_. What it means to have been through such things, and the changes they leave. With the way she has been bound to that device, I thought she _understood_ …”

“I think she might understand better than you think,” Emily countered, “if you explain it to her that way.”

It was quiet again for a long moment.  

“You are always so certain.”

Emily smiled. “I know my girl. I’m getting to know you. Give her a little time and she’ll surprise you.”

Amélie looked over, still a bit skeptical. “And do I surprise you, Emily?”

“Once or twice,” Emily admitted with a smile, “so far.”

“Then, when she is ready to talk…I can try.”

* * *

After Lena had told her that she’d flown all night to make it home, Emily wasn’t surprised to hear soft snores coming from the bedroom when she quietly let herself in.

She looked at how Lena was curled on her side atop the duvet, the accelerator still strapped on, and tutted softly. “Poor love.” She must have figured she’d just lie down for a moment before Emily came in to talk, and dropped right off.

As carefully as she could, Emily joined her lover on the bed, gently stroking the side of her cheek, then kissed the shorter woman’s forehead.

Lena murmured happily at the contact, sliding towards the touch until the accelerator’s fittings caught against the bedspread, bringing her back to wakefulness as the straps began to press into her shoulders. “Mmrf. _Buggering_ …” Automatically reaching down to find where she was snagged, Lena freed herself and then turned back to face where Emily waited, a piper’s smile on her face. “Oh, shit, sorry…didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Really? You do a fantastic job of it most nights we’re both home.”

Lena offered an unamused look and a light swat to her girlfriend’s hip. “C’mon…”

Emily laughed, then sat up, Lena doing the same, propping herself up against the headboard.

Lena gestured to her harness. “Should I get this thing off?”

Emily shrugged. “Your call, sweet. I do want the two of you to try talking again in a bit, but you can always put it back on – or just carry it out to the kitchen.”

Lena considered that, and then nodded, unbuckling the harness and hanging it up on its hook by the bed. “Probably better if I go back out without wearing it, honestly. Being tooled up isn’t going to help calm things down.”

“That’s true,” Emily admitted before giving Lena a smile, “did the nap help?”

“A bit,” Lena admitted, “sorry, I was running on fumes. Not my finest hour…”

Emily reached out, and Lena took the hand gratefully in her own. “It’s not so bad, really. After I convinced Amélie she didn’t have to disappear in the middle of the night, she calmed down. Talked a bit to me about why she wasn’t comfortable going to Gibraltar.”

Lena’s eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

Emily nodded. “Mm. I’m going to let her explain. She needs to.” She paused, then considered something she could say. “You never knew her, before, did you?”

Lena shook her head. “No. I think I met her husband on a liaison job…god, two years before they tapped me for the _Slipstream_? I was still flying with RAF 20 when we helped fly cover for an Overwatch op. Maybe said six words to him – by the time I joined OW proper his wife had disappeared and he was dead. I didn’t even know who she had been until Angie confirmed her identity.”

Emily nodded. “I wondered. If she said she’d give _you_ information about Talon, but not go to Gibraltar, would you be able to accept that?”

Lena sat back against the headboard, clearly giving it serious thought. “Yes, but I’d need to be careful how we handled it. That kind of intel’s suspect at the best of times. If she’d be OK with me telling Winston how I got it, that’s one thing, but if we’re trying to keep the fact that she’s here a secret…” She scrubbed at the back of her head. “It’ll be tricky.”

“You’re OK with her staying with us?” Emily raised an eyebrow, curious to see what her girl would say. She had a feeling, but…

“Well,” Lena looked up at the ceiling, “I’m sure as hell not going to send her back to _Talon_.”

“No,” Emily agreed, “absolutely not.”

“Doubt she’s got a regular bank account,” Lena mused, “and could you imagine her trying to get a job somewhere? Telling her to leave would be the same as putting her on the street again. Maybe worse, because we’d be…” She paused as she tried to think of the right way to put things. “I’m still a bit wigged about her watching us for _six months_ , mind, but…she reached out to you – to us, I guess. She’s here because she wanted to _help_ someone. After all that Talon did to her, she wants to keep you from getting hurt. That’s nothing short of incredible, honestly. After all that, if we were to reject her? It wouldn’t be _right._ ”

Emily leaned in and kissed Lena gently, her hand coming up to caress the back of her neck for a moment before they disengaged.

“…not that I’m complaining, but what brought that on?”

Emily smiled. “Just proud of my girl is all.” She took a moment to enjoy the blush that spread across the brunette’s cheeks, then grew a bit more serious. “But I do need to ask you something.”

Lena looked into her eyes, quickly registering the shift in mood. “Anything, you know that.”

The redhead nodded, putting a hand on her lover’s shoulder. “Regardless of if you end up getting things to take back to Winston to go after Talon or however this works out, I need you to let me make my own choices about what form protecting me takes, all right? I love you, and I want to be safe, but I don’t want to start feeling like a prisoner in my own life.”

Lena winced. “I guess I did start making some decisions for you, didn’t I.”

“You both did,” Emily confirmed, “and I’ll be talking to Amélie about this after we get things settled, too. We had been working on a few compromises while you were away, but I think you were sparking off each other a little too well before I stepped in.”

“Yeah…sorry, luv. You’re right about needing to make your own calls – I just…” Lena shook her head. “The idea of losing you is terrifying, you know?”

“I know,” Emily pulled her lover into a hug, letting Lena hang on for a long moment before she spoke again, “but I’m not made of glass, I swear. I’ll be smart – I think if all three of us talk things over we can come up with some good ideas. I’m not planning on going anywhere – I just want to make sure I’ve got a voice in this, too.”

Nodding, Lena sat back. “Yeah, you’re absolutely right, you need to have a say. Just tell me to back off if I’m getting too carried away again, ok?”

“Absolutely,” Emily agreed before they sealed the bargain with another kiss, “so with all that said, do you feel up to trying to talk things through some more? All three of us?”

Lena looked over to the nearest clock. “Yes, but tell you what – I could use more than tea right now. What if we start with a spot of breakfast for everyone?”

Emily smiled as she slid off the bed and stood up. “Good plan. Why don’t you ask Amélie to come in off the balcony and I’ll see what we can do with what’s in the fridge?”

Lena looked a little nervous at the idea, but grabbed the accelerator off the hook anyway, holding it loosely in her hand as she headed for the living room. 

Emily nodded to herself with satisfaction as she started to figure out what she had to work with to make brunch for three. All things considered, both of them had been fairly reasonable.

Hopefully they could keep things that way once they were all sitting in the same room again

* * *

Amélie sat on the balcony, watching London get a start on its Saturday morning. Football and rugby matches would begin soon, and if she looked carefully, she could pick out men and women on their way, some wearing team kits, others with scarves or hats. It seemed like anyone raised in this country (and more than a few who had immigrated here) had a team of some kind.

She didn’t think she had cared for sport, before. Even now she didn’t consider herself to truly be any kind of _fan_ , but she’d begun following sporting leagues while working as part of Talon because many of her targets _did_ , and she was nothing if not thorough. Knowing that, for example, the Minister for Trade was a passionate football fan, and would attend matches regularly from a private box opened up several opportunities to acquire and eliminate the target en route, at the match, or afterwards. A target who was known to be obsessed with American college basketball who disappeared in March would not be remarked upon, because most expected him to be uncommunicative during the NCAA tournament.

If pressed, she enjoyed watching games like football, ice hockey, and rugby more than American football, cricket, or baseball. Constant movement, kinetic play, and games that relied as much on grace and precision as they did physical strength or speed appealed to her. Slower paced contests bored her, and the way most American sports seemed set up around inserting as many television commercials into the broadcast as possible was just annoying.

She’d abandoned that line of thought and had begun debating the virtues of smoking again when there was a light tapping at the patio door. To her surprise, Tracer – _Lena_ , she reminded herself – was standing there in a t-shirt and sweats, the accelerator dangling loosely in her hand.

The younger woman gave her an expectant look, and after a heartbeat Amélie motioned for her to come out to the balcony.

“Thanks,” Lena said quietly as she came out, settling into the chair Emily had been sitting in earlier, laying the accelerator at her feet, “Em’s working on some breakfast – thought maybe we could all use a bite before we go back to the conversation.”

Amélie nodded. “Reasonable.” She raised an eyebrow. “No pancakes?”

Lena blinked. “Hm?”

“It is a Saturday. I had noticed you often make her breakfast on Saturdays. Emily mentioned that pancakes were…something you did well.”

Lena snorted. “Probably while telling you I’m rubbish at nearly everything else I try?”

She answered with a little smile, and Lena sighed. “Figured. Anyway…I thought I should talk to you a minute anyway. Just you an’ me.”

Amélie straightened, raising an eyebrow. “I’m listening…” She’d nearly added _‘chérie’_ by long habit, but…better that Lena think she wasn’t trying to antagonize her. As much as part of her _did_ like this girl’s energy, her enthusiasm… (It was _not_ a crush. How ridiculous. She couldn’t _get_ crushes. She was just…appreciative.) She had to admit the first time she’d called this woman ‘darling’, she’d thrown her off the top of a building.

Lena seemed to realize she’d been distracted for a moment, but the look on her face wasn’t upset. She just waited for her former enemy to make real eye contact before going on.

“I owe you an apology. You saved Em’s life – probably mine too, in the bargain – and all I’ve done is start a fight with you. I’m sorry for that.” The Overwatch agent sighed, running a hand through her hair. “You took some incredible risks just to _be here_ …I ought to have handled that better.”

She wasn’t sure what she had expected Lena to say, but the apology still took her by surprise. She thought carefully about what to say in return.

“I appreciate you making the effort to apologize, Lena. I share just as much responsibility, though.” She couldn’t help but laugh to herself. “Perhaps we are simply destined to begin on the wrong foot. But…thank you.”

Lena smiled and stood up, picking her harness up again automatically. “So, why don’t we go see what Em’s gotten up to, then?”

Amélie followed her to the door, a little smile coming to her face as well. “ _D’accord._ ”

She’d just closed the patio door behind them when Lena turned around. “Hey, Amélie?”

“Yes?”

The Englishwoman’s irrepressible smile turned a bit shy. “Pancakes tomorrow?”

Amélie felt a little tug in her chest she couldn’t quite let herself understand. “I would like that.”


	7. Reasons & Rights

Emily brought plates in with slices of the frittata she’d thrown together out of the odds and ends of veg and meat they’d had in the fridge.

She’d had full faith in her girlfriend (and, if she was honest, in Amélie), but she still felt a little relief to see them talking on the couch, Lena’s feet up on the center cushion, the sniper with her legs stretched straight out.

“– and we’ll figure things out,” Lena was offering, breaking off as Emily handed her a plate. “Oo, that looks delicious. Thanks, luv!”

“ _Merci_ ,” Amélie concurred as she accepted her own plate, then began to stand, her eyes flicking to the armchair sitting on the other side of the coffee table, “I will move.”

Emily shook her head with a smile. “That’s not how this works – here, I’ll show you.” Balancing her plate and fork in one hand, she reached down to swat at Lena’s leg. “Scoot, you.” Giving her an impish look, Lena complied, but swung her legs back up into the redhead’s lap as soon as she’d settled between them. “See? Easy.”

“If you are sure…” The Frenchwoman’s voice had just an edge to uncertainty to it, which Emily combated with a light touch to her knee.

“Of course I am.” Emily took a few bites of her own eggs, then looked over to where Lena was inhaling the last bit of her breakfast. “Now, what exactly are we figuring out?”

Lena placed her now empty plate on the table, swallowed, and gestured in the general direction of the window. “Just talking a bit about a few things for while I’m home. Didn’t get very far.”

Amélie nodded, taking her breakfast at a more leisurely pace. “I explained that I have been doing the dishes regularly. I asked if she wished to help.”

Emily gave a thoughtful hum, then concentrated on taking care of her own food for a few minutes before she spoke back up. “That’s good.” She paused to finish the last bite, then looked over to Lena. “You two ought to do a few things together, you know. Especially while I’m at work.”

Amélie looked skeptical. “But if you are at work…do you mean that we should patrol the area around your office together?”

Emily frowned. “Not…precisely what I meant, no.”

Lena’s brows knit. “But I think she has a good point. Even if Talon is reeling right now, they’re not _gone_.”

Emily looked sidelong at Lena with a sigh. “Well, maybe try something like you did the other day, then? Walk on foot, visit the shops?” With a thought, she couldn’t help but smirk. “Besides, I can’t imagine you sitting on a roof for eight straight hours, sweet.”

Lena blushed and looked away. “I could _try_ ,” she mumbled, “I mean it would help that I’d be sitting _with_ someone, right?”

Amélie raised an eyebrow that said volumes.

Emily couldn’t help but laugh at the way Lena was pouting. _Well, I was trying to get them to ease up a bit…I suppose that’ll do._ Straightening up, she set her own plate on the table. “All right, then. Do you two want to clear off the plates first, or try backing up to where we needed to leave off?”

Lena considered that. “Why don’t we get the dishes done, and then we’ll talk?”

The sniper stood with a nod. “I’ll take care of the plates if you handle the pan.”

“Deal.”

* * *

After dishes had been scrubbed and the pan cleaned, they settled back in the living room.

This time Emily did direct Amélie to the armchair, while she took one end of the couch and pointed Lena to the other, leaving the middle cushion empty.  “OK, ladies. Would one of you care to start, or should I flip a coin?”

Lena gestured to the Frenchwoman. “You’re the guest, yeah?”

“ _Merci._ ” Amélie leaned forward slightly. “My issue with leaving is not just protecting Emily, though it is my largest concern.” Emily noticed the fingers of her right hand clench and relax for a moment – the same way she’d noticed the sniper wrapping her fingers around the grip and trigger guard of her rifle before.

Well. She had mentioned the thought of holding it could be comforting. Maybe they could get her a substitute for inside the flat? Probably couldn’t find a soft toy that would match the feel but maybe a squirt gun or something…she made a made a mental note to visit a toy shop later.

“My other reason for not wishing to go to Gibraltar,” Amélie admitted, “has nothing to do with Talon. It is because of how I fear I may be treated by members of Overwatch.”

Lena, to her credit, didn’t snap or jump. Instead, she gave a speculative look, motioning for the other woman to continue.

“You,” golden eyes made direct contact with each of the women on the couch, “both of you accept who I am. Tracer – Lena – on the battlefield. Emily since she began speaking to me. Perhaps you both saw _more_ in me than I admitted was there…but you never treated me as something _less._ ”

Emily could see the struggle as Amélie tried to put her words in order. “I told Emily some of this…but there was an incident, not long after Ana began working with Overwatch again. I was nearly captured. I watched as Mercy spoke of ‘bringing Amélie back’ like I was not even there. Of ‘fixing’ me.” She shook her head as if to reject the idea, then picked up the thread again.

“I have left Talon. I have no wish to return. But I have no wish to lose the last decade of my life, either. For better or worse I have been shaped by it. I have no desire to pretend it did not occur, or to allow myself to be experimented upon.” Amélie paused, and cast a meaningful look at where the accelerator sat charging on the wall outlet. “My life has been painful, but it is _mine_. They do not have the right to take it away.”

Lena was silent for a long moment before she spoke, her voice low. “No, they don’t.” She looked up into Amélie’s eyes, and Emily could see tears welling in her love’s gaze. “I know I apologized for mucking things up earlier, but…I’m sorry. If I had known…” She shook her head. “When you put it that way…you must have felt like I was making a threat when I suggested Angie have a look at you. Wasn’t my intention at all, but I am sincerely sorry for that.”

Amélie nodded, obviously not sure what else to say, and Lena took a moment, dabbing at her eyes before she took a shot at speaking again.

“I certainly don’t want you to feel like we’re trying to make you go back to Talon, and I agree with Em, you deserve better than to sleep on the street. You’re welcome here, and we…all three of us…can figure out what works best for how we handle things around the flat and everything else.” Making eye contact with her girlfriend, Lena bit the edge of her lip as she put together the rest of what she wanted to say.

“I know that Amélie and I are both worried about your safety, Em, but you were right too. You need to have a say in what happens, and you shouldn’t feel like our prisoner. Maybe the two of us can do a walkaround for a little while, and if things stay quiet we back off a little further?”

Emily considered that, then nodded. “I like that idea. Mind you,” she smiled to both women, “I do like having company on the way in and the way home. That’s been nice. If you wanted to keep that part up, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“So,” Emily looked over to where the blue skinned woman seemed to be considering things thoughtfully, “Amélie? How’re you doing right now?”

The sniper took a moment before she spoke. “Am I allowed to say that I am not sure?”

“Of course you are,” Lena assured her to Emily’s quiet pride, “this is a lot, you know. You had a routine and we’re talking about changing things again.” She looked over at the redhead. “Ask Em about how I was when we first started dating? Then dealing with Overwatch falling apart and trying to figure out everything _again_ , while still half terrified of disappearing. I didn’t get here overnight…and sometimes I still get a bit thrown.”

The sniper smiled a bit more genuinely than she had earlier. “Such as when you find a stranger in your shower.”

Lena snorted. “Yeah, that’d do…”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Were you intending to ambush me in the shower, dear?”

Lena attempted to look innocent, but it was defeated by the blush that rose to the tips of her ears. “Well, no, not _exactly_ , I mean by the time I got my jacket off the water had shut off so…y’know what? I’m reasonably sure I have a right not to incriminate myself.”

Amélie snorted, then stood up. “I think I will put on an actual shirt while the two of you…” She waved a hand through the air, “settle your affairs.”

Emily offered a bland look. “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean.”

* * *

“So,” Lena asked that evening as she settled on the bed, “how…how has it _been_ , living with her?”

“Honestly,” Emily answered as she brushed out her hair, “quite well. I was a little worried she’d have some issues with living outside of a barracks.” Her eye flicked up in the mirror to catch her lover’s. “Do you know that most of the time she wasn’t actually _eating_? Apparently there was one person – that Sombra she talked about – who made her actual food now and then, but otherwise they were giving her nutrition by IV or…what did she call them…‘nutritionally balanced and optimized ration bars.’”

“Oh god,” Lena shuddered, “rat bars? That’s torture.”

Emily turned, raising an eyebrow. “That bad? Really?”

Lena nodded. “Oh, yeah. They put them in the survival and escape kits, if you have to bail out. Back when I took my Escape and Rescue courses in flight training, the instructor told us that most pilots would eat them for four days, but after that point they’d starve rather than choke down another. Encouraged us to practice making snares or fishhooks to catch our own meals for just that reason.”

Emily chuckled as she put down her brush and turned out the light. “Well, the good news is she’s learning what food actually tastes like again – you saw that today.”

“Yeah,” Lena agreed as she stretched until she felt a few satisfying pops. “So…tomorrow, I told her I’d do pancakes.”

“Oh? Good.” Emily’s teeth reflected in the light from the recharging accelerator as she smiled, her expression a bit difficult to read. “I was serious about you two trying to spend a little time with each other, not just…covering my route, or however you decide to keep an eye out for me. She needs more friends, and even if she came to help keep me safe, you’re the reason why she cared enough to try in the first place. She should get to actually know _you_.”

Lena clucked her tongue softly. “Hadn’t thought of it like that…”

“Mm,” Emily settled into bed, one arm slipping around the smaller woman’s waist, “but it’s true. Thinking along the same lines…at this point, you probably know more about how she is in a fight, but I feel like right now I might be one of the only people who knows _her._ ”

Their hands found each other in the dark, and Lena went quiet for a few minutes. “I’ll work on that, promise. I meant everything I said today, you know…she does deserve to have _her_ life. But we can help make it a better one.”

Emily closed the space between them for a kiss before speaking again. “I knew you did. You don’t have a lying bone in your body, you know.” Lena could feel herself blushing in the dark, and somehow it felt like Emily could see that clearly as she went on. “Now, mind you, I finally get what you meant about the ‘arse’ on her.”

Now Lena was _definitely_ blushing. “Oi! C’mon, that was said in _confidence_ , not before she started sleeping in the next room.”

“I _see_ ,” Emily’s hands began to tickle at her sides, and Lena shuddered as she tried not to laugh, “now that I’ve actually seen her dressed up in that suit of hers, it’s not hard to figure out _why_ you were paying such attention to her… _assets_.”

Lena gasped as giggles began to spill out of her. “Hahaah… You!…ahh!…are…hahahahahh… _terrible_ …haaaaaa!”

“Oh, I know.” Emily relented in her attack to steal a kiss. “It’s not like _I_ haven’t noticed either.”

Lena shook her head. “Even if that was…even if she _wanted_ that…I don’t think she’s actually ready.”

Emily made a soft, affirmative noise. “No, you’re probably right there. But who knows…? I told her this morning, she’s already surprised me a few times…”

Lena grinned with the chance to get her own back. “So is _that_ why you took her corset shopping?”

“Well,” Emily coughed, “not the _only_ reason…”

“Oh,” Lena cooed, “ _I see_. So many reasons, then…”

Things degenerated quickly from there.


	8. Direct Actions

Despite her general preference to wake a few hours before Emily so she could be completely prepared to deploy on her self-appointed missions, Amélie had agreed that she would let herself sleep as much or as little as she desired on the weekends.

She wasn’t surprised that she slept until almost nine in the morning. The addition of Lena to the apartment had added a different dynamic to what she had become used to. Even with the initial argument resolved, it had taken some time to adjust to the third person.

On some level she had expected the sprinter to be _louder_ , but she’d been…subdued was the wrong word. Lena had the same energy, but she was clearly making an effort to _relax_ while home. She’d put on a few shows that Emily had recorded for her while she’d been in the field, had ordered the long anticipated Indian food (Amélie thought it was flavorful, but didn’t quite understand the younger woman’s apparent obsession), and let her lover catch her up on some of the news she’d missed as the evening went on.

Amélie had feared she might _need_ to leave, despite both Emily and Lena’s assurances. She was the intruder, here, and after an absence she had expected both women would focus on each other to the exclusion of all else, but she’d been surprised to find herself included in discussions and generally made to feel…welcome.

She wasn’t used to that.

So many of her memories came with layers of detachment. The most painful, yes, those she felt, but others… More had begun to surface as she’d spent more and more time outside of Talon’s daily influence, but so often it was like a recording being played for her – actions, people, places that she knew _should_ have meaning, but so often failed to make an impression. What she’d felt last night was far better than the _nothing_ that so often filled her, but it was almost overwhelming after a time.

She lay in bed, turning those thoughts over in her mind until the smell of sausages being cooked caught her attention.

When she arrived in the kitchen Lena was working at the stove, and true to her promise she had begun stacking up pancakes on a serving plate, carefully pouring batter from a mixing bowl after greasing her pan again, while links of meat sizzled and popped in a skillet atop another burner.

“Morning!” Lena gestured towards the kitchen cabinets without turning around. “Feel free to grab a plate, there’s golden syrup or maple if you prefer American style.”

“ _Bonjour_ ,” Amélie replied as she made her way through the kitchen to retrieve a plate and fork. “Are the pancakes American style?”

Lena shrugged. “Bit closer to that, yeah. I like the fluffy ones for a regular breakfast. I make traditional ones now and then, but…” She trailed off as she turned, an odd expression on her face.

Amélie looked over in confusion at the interrupted sentence. “Is something wrong?”

Lena blinked. “Ah. No, no…you…just wasn’t expecting…um…you looking so casual, I suppose.”

The Frenchwoman looked down at the nightshirt she’d pulled on before leaving the bedroom. It covered her adequately, didn’t it? The material was opaque enough that nothing stood out. Her legs were bare and her hair was down, yes, but was something else the matter?

“You saw me in a bra and sweatpants yesterday,” she countered, “and I seem to recall you following me into my room while I wore nothing but a towel – and less, in fact.”

“Yeaaaaah,” the Englishwoman admitted as the tips of her ears began to go red, “sorry, just…still getting used to this, I guess. Caught me off guard.” She paused, her eyes taking a quick sweep up and down before she forced herself to pay attention to the food she still had on the hot stove. “I mean, please don’t get me wrong it isn’t _bad_ , just…unexpected, I guess. Still wrapping my head around it all.”

Amélie couldn’t help but laugh softly at that. “You are not alone in that, _chérie_.”

“Hah, guess not.” After putting the sausage links onto a folded paper towel to drain, Lena looked back over. “I had a thought about something you might like to do, later. Emily suggested we take a little time to get to know each other when we’re not actually trying to kill each other.”

That got a raised eyebrow and a carefully neutral expression. “And what would that be?”

Lena’s smile turned a bit wolfish. “Well, I was thinking after we ate and let breakfast settle, you might enjoy a bit of exercise.”

* * *

Emily frowned as she watched Lena pull on a pair of her “working” leggings and a compression top. “Are you really sure this is a good idea?”

Lena grinned back as she began to perform warm up stretches. “Oh, come on. This will be fun! Just a nice game of tag and a run.”

“Across the rooftops. In broad daylight. With a spot of sparring mixed into it.” The redhead crossed her arms. “What if someone calls the Plod?”

Lena snorted. “If they can lay a finger on either of us, they've earned it.”

Emily remained deeply skeptical. “They do have things called cars, you know. And helicopters, among other things.”

“Worst case we go to ground in the alleys here in the Row. Pretty easy to lose a flyer that way, and squad cars won't have an easy time in the old narrows. Which is also assuming someone would call. I mean, she's been getting away with zipping around for months, right?”

Straightening up, Lena grabbed her goggles off the dresser and a black track jacket instead of her usual Shearing that she zipped halfway up before stepping into the leg straps of her accelerator’s harness.

“Besides, most folks around here have seen me running about – I'm not exactly subtle – and never made a fuss. This is just…a little more involved.”

Emily kept her thoughts to herself while she helped settle the harness in place and buckle down the rigging, making sure things were comfortable with long practiced tugs and checks while Lena shrugged her shoulders a few times to make sure the accelerator’s weight was settled properly.

“I suppose I wouldn’t worry as much if it were at night – this will be the middle of the afternoon.” Sighing, Emily stepped back as the accelerator switched from the passive mode to active, the slowly rotating discs of blue light appearing on front and back. “But you’re right about it being…hm. Less obviously violent, I suppose. Just be careful, please?”

Lena grinned as she tugged the goggles down over her eyes. “When am I not?”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Do you _really_ want me to answer that?”

“Oi!”

* * *

 Lena grinned as they made their way up the fire escape to the roof. Emily’s concerns were valid, she’d admit, but this was going to be a lot of fun.

Amélie (should she call her Widowmaker in this sort of context? She ought to ask later) was waiting on the rooftop when she and Emily arrived, wearing a long dark coat over her combat gear, the recon visor apparently left in the flat, though she had put her hair up into the customary ponytail. Her rifle and Lena’s pistols were still locked up in the safe downstairs. This would be good old fashioned cat and mouse, no need for the rest of their kit.

“ _Salut_ ,” the sniper greeted them, then extended her gauntlet clad arm to show the mine launcher was empty, “just as you said. I have my grapple, nothing else.”

Lena nodded. “Right. Same here – no bombs, no pistols. Just the accelerator. Em tosses a coin to decide who’s ‘It’ first, other one gets a two minute head start, and after each tag we trade off? Say we go…best three falls out of five?”

Her new house guest considered that, then nodded. “And is anything considered out of bounds?”

Emily cleared her throat. “Try to keep it in the Row, I should think…and all things considered, best to avoid the Mondatta memorial.”

Lena winced. Oh, bugger. She hadn’t considered that. “Good advice, luv, thank you.”

Amélie smiled. “I’m ready, then. It’s been far too long since we danced _._ ”

(The look in her eyes was very Widowmaker when she said that.)

Emily took a 50p coin from her pocket, turning it to show them both sides. “Heads, Lena gets the head start. Tails, Amélie.” The coin spun as she flicked it upwards, and it finally clattered to the rooftop with the King’s portrait staring up at the sky.

The Frenchwoman nodded, then offered a predatory smile as she waved at the skyline. “ _Aprés vous, ma chérie._ ”

( _Definitely_ Widowmaker.)

Lena took a deep breath, offered a jaunty salute, then began to run.

She’d cleared the better part of a kilometer, by her reckoning, when the two minute head start was up. With a leap off another rooftop, she blinked over to the next building’s fire escape, then another leap and blink to carry her onto a zig-zagging course through the borough.

Lena had just bounced up from the lower rooftop of a bakery to a taller apartment when she heard the distinctive _clink_ of a grappling hook biting into concrete. Whirling, she saw the dark fluttering shape zipping across the sky, a few rooftops away.

 _Damn, she made good time._ Lena felt a grin spreading across her face. So much the better. Popping behind a boxy heating unit she watched Widowmaker land on the next building over, her ponytail flicking through the air as she searched for her quarry.

Lena – no, right now if she was honest with herself she was in full Tracer mode – waited for Widowmaker to guess which rooftop she’d hunkered down on, and laughed softly when the hunter guessed wrong.

Tracer sprang up from her hiding spot, keeping herself low until she blinked across the roof and used her slipstream-boosted momentum to spring into a shoulder check, knocking Widowmaker to the roof with a grunt.

They both rolled with the impact, Tracer smoothly rebounding, while Widowmaker went limp until she’d made a complete somersault, then gracefully rose to her feet, her eyes flashing as she took up a fighting stance.

“Point to you,” the Frenchwoman admitted, “but I am not down yet.”

“Oh,” Tracer winked, “the night’s still young.”

They came together in a rapid exchange of fists and feet, Widowmaker using her longer reach and greater kicking power, while Tracer relied on her agility and the lessons she’d learned among the schoolyards and pubs about fighting a taller, stronger opponent.

After two good passes they’d managed to tag each other a few times, but nothing decisive. Tracer’s blood was up and her breathing quick, feeling hyperaware of everything around her. She didn’t miss the lavender blush on Widowmaker’s cheeks or the way her golden eyes flashed. The way she focused, her eyes narrowing and the taller woman’s bearing shifted just _slightly_ before she lunged forward again.

Purple-booted legs swung out in a leaping kick, and Tracer responded by blinking into the charge, Widowmaker’s feet tagging nothing but displaced air. Both women whirled again, and Tracer engaged this time, intending to come in for a couple of quick body blows before fading back, but the spider was ready for her prey to enter the web, seizing the shorter woman’s arm and spinning into a throw that sent Tracer bouncing off the ground. Following through, Widowmaker lunged forward, then stopped her fist a few centimeters from the tip of Tracer’s nose, her eyes automatically focusing on the blue skinned knuckles poking out from the fingerless glove the older woman wore on her dominant hand.

They remained still for a moment, golden eyes looking down into brown eyes washed to pale amber by the shatterproof goggles. Widowmaker’s frown of concentration turned to a small smile, the amusement reaching all the way to her eyes as she extended her index finger and tapped Tracer lightly on the nose. “Tag. You’re it.”

Tracer nodded, acknowledging the score before smirking back up at her dance partner. “Care to let me up? Or should I just deduct this from your head start?”

“No need,” the sniper demurred, rising smoothly and taking her bearings before she stepped to the far edge of the roof, “just try to keep up.” Widowmaker leapt into space, and a moment later her grapple flew, sending her swinging away.

Rolling a crick out of her neck, Tracer stood, taking a deep breath and letting it go as she watched the seconds tick by on her watch. _Have to admit, the dramatic ‘coat as a cape’ thing works for her._

Finally, the two minutes were up, and Tracer whooped as she got back into the game.

* * *

Widowmaker had the lead, two falls to one, when Tracer had found her waiting crouched at the edge of what she realized after a moment’s thought was a mixed use building with a pub on the ground floor, the Frenchwoman looking intently down at the street below.

The sniper raised a hand as she heard her sparring partner approach, motioning for silence.

Frowning, Lena crept up, kneeling down and looking into what she realized was the alley between one building and the next, where a man was walking with…no…he was _dragging_ a girl with him.

“– said I don’t _want_ to go, Jamie, please!”

_Oh, shit._

Lena looked over to see Amélie’s face set into a scowl, her eyes flashing.

“And _I_ said you’re going home! With me! NOW!” The bloke in the alley was bigger, and from the sound of his voice more than a few beers in. “Fuckin’ saw you _talking_ to that _shit_ and you making eyes at him through half the match!”

“I went to school with his sister! I was saying hello! Why do you always have to act like this if I tal –”

**“SHUT UP!”**

There was a meaty smacking sound as ‘Jamie’ slapped the blonde girl, and before Lena could even think the words ‘call the Plod’, Amélie was dropping four stories straight down.

_Well, that’s one way to handle this._

Lena was blinking her way to the street as booted feet connected with the drunk’s shoulders, sending him stumbling backwards with a shout of surprise and pain, the dark coated figure landing between him and the girl he’d assaulted.

She went to the girl, offering a hand, keeping her voice gentle and soft. “Easy. You’re safe now – we’re not going to let him touch you again, OK?”

The girl stared up at her, obviously shocked, but nodded to her.

“Who the _fuck_ –” Jamie was standing again, his face beet red as he stared at the two women who had appeared out of nowhere, taking one staggering step forward.

“ _Leave_ ,” Amélie hissed furiously, her hands coming up in a guard, “go home while you can still walk.”

Lena wondered if she was going to have to remind the former assassin to use a non-lethal takedown when the drunk attempted to push past the blue skinned woman. That ended with Amélie using a variation of the same throw she’d recently tossed Lena across a rooftop with, but this time it ended with the larger man smacking hard into a brick wall, the wind knocked out of him with the impact.

“So,” Amélie spoke quietly, “you enjoy hitting women, _salaud?_ I am willing to allow you to _try_ if you are stupid enough to stand up again.”

The blonde girl gasped, and Lena’s attention was drawn back to her. Right, best to get her to safety _now_ , no matter what. “C’mon, luv. Let’s get you out of here.”

Obviously frightened out of her wits, the young woman blinked a couple of times before realizing that the woman with the glowing apparatus on her chest was trying to help her up, and took it in a shaky grip, allowing Lena to bring her back to her feet.

“We’re just going to go down to the chippie, yeah?” Lena lead her away gently as Amélie stared down the flattened man. “You live with that bloke?”

“Uh…no,” the girl admitted, “no, no I have my own flat.”

“Top work,” Lena assured her as they left the alley, “he got a key?”

“I don’t think he does,” the blonde said hesitantly, “but my spare is taped to the back of the mail slot flap.”

Lena tutted. “OK, well, I’m not your mum, but if I could suggest, you should phone a friend and have them hit the DIY for you, get a new set of locks, just to be safe. Maybe ask if they’d come pick you up on the way, yeah?”

“I…” The girl hesitated for a moment, then nodded as Lena held open the door of the chip shop. “Yeah, OK…I can call a couple of girlfriends for a hand.”

“Perfect,” Lena smiled as she gestured to a table, “you go sit, I’m gonna get you a bottle of water, all right? Text your friends.”

Lena paid for three bottles of water, quietly explaining to the shop’s owner that she and a friend had caught the blonde woman’s (hopefully now ex-) boyfriend slapping her around and put a stop to it, and would he please keep an eye on her until some of the girl’s mates came around to get her home safely?

With that done, she deposited one bottle in front of the girl, tucked another into her front jacket pocket, and cracked the third for herself. “Any luck with your friends?”

“Artii’s coming over here right now,” the girl admitted, “she’s been telling me to dump him for weeks.”

“Good on her, then. Sounds like a great friend.” Lena smiled. “The lads here are going to keep an eye on you – I’m going to go help make sure that pillock doesn’t get any ideas about coming in here, all right?”

“Oh…I…all right.” The girl looked at her, eyes suddenly widening in recognition. “Wait, aren’t you…?”

Lena winked, putting a finger to her lips. “Shh. Cheers, luv. Cavalry’s here.” She walked out of the shop door as the girl stared after, then blinked back towards the alleyway.

What she found was Amélie still standing like a furious statue over the prone but still breathing drunk, watching like a hawk to make sure he didn’t so much as twitch. “This shit given you any more trouble?”

Amélie shook her head, but didn’t take her eyes off the terrified man at her feet. “Sadly, no, _chérie._ I was hoping for an excuse to break his knees.”

“Mm.” Lena crouched down as she reached the Widowmaker’s side, her own eyes flashing. Giving the batterer a disgusted look, she let him squirm another moment before speaking. “So, Jamie, was it? I’m going to be honest – part of me would absolutely love to watch my friend break your legs after what we saw you do. But she’s trying to turn over a new leaf, and fun as it would be, I think encouraging her to do some violence to you would be the wrong way to go.”

The drunk’s eyes wobbled from her, then up to Amélie’s face, finding nothing but a glacial stare, then returned to meet Lena’s gaze again.

“So here’s the deal – and this is a one time offer, mind.” Lena raised a hand, ticking points off on her fingers.  “First off – you’re going to leave that poor girl alone. _Forever_. We hear about you giving her a hard time, showing up at her job, even just passing her in the street more often than seems reasonable coincidence, we’re going to have another  _chat_.”

Lena let that sink in a moment before she went on. “Two – A few of her friends are going to take care of changing her locks, and probably going to come to get any stuff she left at your place. Same deal here – you cause any trouble for them, and you’re in a world of shit.”

Jamie had begun to nod frantically. Perhaps something to do with the big scary blue woman with furious eyes.

Lena supposed her own eyes looked pretty frightful too. She had a low tolerance for this sort.

“Third – seems to me you’ve got some drinking problems, mate, and some problems with your jealous temper. I’m not a professional, but I’d _strongly_ suggest you go find one, and quit drinking to go with.”

Lena stood, dusting a bit of imaginary debris from her tights.

“We’ll be leaving – but you’d best believe that we’ll keep an eye out. And if we heard anyone breathe a _word_ about you giving anyone else trouble…well.” Lena’s eyes flicked over to catch Amélie’s. “Let’s just say there’s nowhere you could hide from us.”

Jamie didn’t respond in words, but the dark stain on his trousers was answer enough.

“Right,” Lena offered cheerfully, “time for us to be on our way. Keep yourself out of trouble, Jamie. Because you don’t _ever_ want to see us again.”

Amélie nodded grimly, silently backing up the smaller woman’s words, then raised her arm and fired her grapple, disappearing from the alleyway as quickly as she’d arrived, while Lena blinked up to the fire escape, and from there made her way to the roof.

The Frenchwoman was waiting for her, taking a slow, deep breath. “It is good we went unarmed,” she admitted once Lena had arrived, “I would have been far too tempted.”

“You an’ me both,” Lena agreed, “but he’s not worth it.”

“…no.” Amélie finally admitted. “No, I suppose he is not.”

“I think we might as well head back,” Lena admitted, “call the sparring a draw for today?”

Amélie rolled her eyes. “I was in the lead, you know.”

“Special circumstances!” Lena waved back at where Jamie was still collecting himself, then looked over at the sniper, concern touching her face. “So…how do you feel after all that? You doing OK?”

That got a surprisingly fierce smile as the taller woman turned to walk towards the other edge of the rooftop, aiming herself in the general direction of where Emily waited for them back at the flat.

“I feel _alive.”_

The grapple fired, and she was gone, Lena mulling over those words for a long moment before she followed.


	9. Not Quite Tea & Numbers

Amélie looked at herself in the bedroom mirror. She’d changed from the dark coat and slacks she’d generally thought of as her uniform for covert observation to black walking flats, khakis, a rose blouse, and a light jacket. Hair up in a bun rather than a ponytail or loose. Dark sunglasses hanging from the breast pocket she could put on when she went out.

It changed her look considerably. That was good. She’d spent too much time in the same outfit – if Talon was looking for her, it was entirely possible she’d been spotted and recognized by now. She should have been rotating her look more regularly to help reduce the odds of being easily spotted, and there was no point in Emily having bought her more clothes if she would not wear them.

She hadn’t seen any obvious signs of a tail or a retrieval squad, but she couldn’t allow herself to think she was completely anonymous. Particularly after she’d stepped in to stop the assault in the alley.

_Why did you do that?_

She’d been angry, when she saw the man dragging the girl away, and the moment he’d raised a hand she hadn’t even stopped to think – she would not _allow_ that to continue.

Lena had been right that the _fils de pute_ wasn’t worth killing. But she would have, if he’d presented a genuine threat. As it was, she’d happily knocked him down and would have done it again if he’d tried anything else.

But that was still _what_ , not _why._ Was it as simple as knowing she _could_ act, and doing so?

_Is this who you are now?_

She sighed at her reflection in the mirror. “ _Je ne sais pas._ ”

It wasn’t who she had been before Talon, that was certain. In her old life, she had been proud of what Gérard did, but had never tried to fight on the front lines. If she’d run into that kind of situation, she’d probably have acted as Lena did – get the girl somewhere safe, call her friends, perhaps the police.

When she’d first become Widowmaker, _if_ she had acted, it likely would have only been to prevent her position from being compromised – by killing both of them.

Now…she still don’t know. But it hadn’t felt _wrong_. Her blood had been singing from their sparring matches on the rooftops, and the same electric thrill had filled her when she leapt into the alley.

She checked the clock on the bedroom wall. Emily would be ready to leave soon.

Time enough to wonder about it all later.

Lena was in the kitchen, apparently having opted for a pair of jeans and dark blue t-shirt with a logo that Amélie didn’t recognize splashed across the fabric in white.

“Morning,” Lena waved with the hand that wasn’t holding her spoon, “thought I’d drive us in today. You look different.”

Amélie shrugged as she took a bottled fruit smoothie from the refrigerator. “That was the point…” She looked over, smiling despite her earlier reflections. “But thank you.”

“I have to say it’s a nice look for you,” Emily agreed as she maneuvered to retrieve a banana, “you ought to wear things that aren’t purple or black more often.”

Amélie rolled her eyes as she took a drink from the bottle. “As opposed to neon orange?”

Emily smiled innocently before taking a few bites of her breakfast, while Lena offered a wounded look as she swallowed a mouthful of cereal.

“See, I had a suggestion for something we _could_ do while Em’s at work,” Lena offered with wounded dignity, “but if you’re just going to be _mean_ …”

Finishing her drink and dropping the empty bottle into the recycling bin, Amélie opened a hand. “I’m listening. What did you have in mind?”

Lena sat up a bit straighter. “Em was mentioning she was going to call you the other day, but you haven’t got a mobile. Thought I could add a line to my plan and we pick one up for you.”

Amélie frowned. “Phones can be tracked. It’s why I hadn’t bought one.”

Emily shrugged as she dropped her banana peel in the trash. “You’re not wrong, but it would make it easier in some ways – especially if I could let you know that there’s a problem by a text or a call.”

Lena nodded “Also lets me give you an update if you _were_ up on a roof and I’m out, or to let you both know if something’s up while I’m out of town.”

“That is reasonable,” Amélie admitted, “can you get the phone without my name attached to it?”

Lena grinned as she stood and they made their way out of the flat. “Yeah, I can just leave it in my name, and if someone presses me, well, I’ll tell them it’s for my little sister, _Amelia_.”

Amélie bristled, but before she could reply Emily shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Sweet, I haven’t even had my coffee yet, please _don’t.”_

* * *

They dropped Emily off at her office’s doorstep then found parking at a garage, Amélie demonstrating the patrol route she’d worked out so Lena could get a feel for the pattern.

“Not bad,” the shorter woman admitted after they completed a full circuit, “keeps her office building in view for the whole walk, gives enough variety to look like we’re just out for a shop, and if you take a few breaks here and there no one ought to notice we’ve been around four or five times already.”

Amélie nodded to the polite praise. “That was my intention. Though we are both…somewhat distinctive.”

Lena grinned. “It’s London, yeah? People get used to things awfully quickly here. They probably just figure you’ve got a skin condition and don’t want to be rude.”

Shaking her head at that idea, Amélie gestured to the tea shop as they approached. “Emily suggested spending some time waiting there. I enjoyed what I tried there a few days ago.”

“Sounds lovely to me,” Lena agreed, “lead on.”

The shop wasn’t as packed as it had been on the previous day, but there was still a queue. To her amusement, the daily special today was called “Not Quite Tea” – advertised as ground cacao nibs, ginger, coconut milk powder, and orange blossoms. Even if chocolate hadn’t impressed her that much, ordering it gave her a perverse sort of pleasure.

Lena decided on an Assam blend, then blinked in surprise as Amélie produced her wallet to pay for their drinks. “Those are hundred pound notes! Where did you get all that quid?”

“I told you I had been staying at a safehouse,” Amélie explained once they’d found a table with a good view of the street, “Talon normally leaves a large quantity of laundered currency for purchasing food, tools, and other essentials.”

Lena grinned. “So you swiped it? Brilliant. But…why sleep on the street if you had cash on hand?”

Amélie sipped her “Not Quite Tea” before answering. “I had no idea how long I would need to make the money last, for one, and for another…even if I changed hotel rooms every night, paying cash for enough of them would have raised a flag eventually. By using cash for small purchases only, it helped reduce the odds of being found.”

“You’re still that concerned about Talon finding you?” Lena frowned, “I mean, you didn’t know they were having their own little war, but now…?”

She considered that for a long moment. “I suppose it is not as essential now – certainly if Talon was observing you or Emily, they know I am living in the apartment. But they are not the only ones who I wished to avoid.”

Lena gave her a thoughtful look. “You’re not just talking about Overwatch or the Plod, are you?”

Amélie’s brows knit. “…plod?”

“Police,” Lena explained, “cops, bobbies, the filth…?”

“Ah.” Another sip of Not Tea covered a bit of her embarrassment. “Emily does not make up nearly so many words as you do.”

Lena sputtered, putting a hand over the top of her accelerator’s front fairing. “Oi! All of those are real.”

Amélie hummed noncommittally. “So you say. But, no, I was not just concerned about Overwatch and the authorities.” She took a slow, deep breath, then released it. “Gabriel might ask Sombra to track me. I have no idea if she would agree. I have caused considerable damage to Vishkar. Lumerico. Volskaya…any of them might hire bounty hunters or send their own agents.” She took another sip of her drink. “I could defeat them, most likely, but it would add…complications. Better to be a shadow.”

Lena went quiet as she considered all that. “Hadn’t thought of it that way. Makes sense, yeah. Do you think Reaper will _want_ to come after you?”

“I genuinely do not know. The disruption to Talon may suit him. Or he may allow one faction or another to hire him. So I must assume it is a possibility.” The factors that spun through her mind as she considered the potential threats and complications felt as if they could easily give her a pounding headache. Removing the sunglasses, she reached up to rub at her temples. “Making my own choices has been difficult. One decision leading to another, and another, each opening up more risks.”

Lena nodded, her expression sympathetic. “Life’s like that, I’m afraid. You try to make the best calls you can, but sometimes you find yourself in a hole despite everything you try.”

“You never seem to hesitate,” Amélie admitted, “that is something I have envied.”

“Oh?” Lena raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t show much hesitation yesterday afternoon. Or when you’re in a fight.”

“That is _different_. In combat I have objectives. A mission. I know what I am trying to achieve, even if it is as simple as surviving the engagement.” She looked down at her teacup, the earlier confusion she’d felt as she looked in the mirror welling up again. “I don’t _know_ what I was doing yesterday. I don’t know _why_ …”

The younger woman went quiet, considering her words. “It’s not so different, honestly. You just decide what matters to you – what the most important thing is, and you follow it. I think you’re working on that, honestly. You just need time to take it all on board.”

Amélie shrugged, looking back out the window. All her evidence suggested otherwise.

“As for yesterday…” Lena tapped a finger against the top of her tea cup. “Talon…well, honestly, there’s no nice way to put it. Talon hurt you. Abused you. Tortured you. You told us that you weren’t going to allow them to do the same to Em. I think it’s a little deeper than that. I think you saw a woman being hurt, or at least in danger of being hurt, and you wanted to put a stop to it.”

“I’m not one of your heroes, Lena.” She shook her head at the very _idea_. “I told that to Emily as well.”

Lena shrugged. “Call it a decision to do the right thing, then. Listening to your better angels.”

That brought a derisive snort. “My ‘better angels’ wanted to put a bullet through his kneecap. At best.”

“Oh, I’d have considered it too,” Lena agreed, “but you didn’t. You used exactly the force necessary to take care of the problem.”

Another shrug. Her drink was almost gone. She had to admit that she’d liked it more than she had expected. Perhaps Emily had a point about trying other forms of chocolate. “I suppose you are right. I was trained to be efficient, and there was no need for more.”

Lena smiled. “Like I said – you need time. It took me a while to figure out what the hell I was doing after they pulled me out of the slipstream – and longer after Overwatch came apart. None of this is stuff that comes together overnight, and Em and I certainly don’t expect you to wake us up one morning and say you’re ready to sit the exam.”

A thought occurred to Amélie. “And if I were to tell you one morning that I wished to leave?”

Lena bit the corner of her lip. “If you did it tomorrow? I’d be concerned – we both would. I’d ask why, and we’d probably both do our best to talk you out of it. You’re still figuring things out, and I know from experience how hard that is. Especially if you’re trying to go it alone.”

Lena looked away for a moment, eyes going distant before she took a breath and refocused. “We want to help with that, we both do. I agree that it’s your life, and you have the right to decide what’s best for you. But…”

She closed her eyes, tilting her head downwards slightly. “I won’t lie to you, I was scared as hell for that first hour or two after you came out of the shower, but there’s a lot more to you than I ever thought, and you deserve a chance at a fresh start. I’d like to be part of helping you make that happen. You’re welcome to stay. Emily wants you to stay, you know that.”

There was an odd tightness in her chest, and her throat was suddenly dry despite all she’d had to drink. “And do _you_ want me to stay?”

Lena’s mouth quirked in a little smile as their eyes met again. “I guess that’s what I’m trying to tell you, yeah.”

The rush of relief she felt at that answer was palpable, and she could not explain why. “I may change my mind someday. I don’t know.”

“Little secret,” Lena answered with a conspiratorial grin, “people do that every day, too.” She looked at her watch, then back to the street. “I haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary so far, and we’ve got about an hour before lunchtime. Why don’t we go take care of that phone for you?”

* * *

Emily frowned as she tapped at a set of figures that had been sent over for her project meeting on Wednesday. Something didn’t seem quite right…where were they _getting_ these numbers?

Sighing, she sent an email over requesting their raw numbers and sources. God, this was a mess.

_Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to dismiss Amélie’s offer to maim a few of my coworkers after all._

As if on cue, there was a buzzing from her purse as her phone began to ring, with a number she didn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

- _Bonjour, c’est Amélie à l’appareil._

“Oh! This your new phone, then?”

- _Yes, Lena thought I should call you first, so you had my number._

Emily nodded, then shook her head when she realized the sniper couldn’t see that. “That’s wonderful, thanks, I’ll save a contact for you.”

- _Are you free for lunch?_

She considered that for a moment, then sighed. “Much as I’d love to see you both, I’m afraid not. I have to deal with some things here. I’ll probably just grab something to eat at my desk.”

There were muted sounds of a discussion, then the Frenchwoman came back on the line.

- _I see. What did you plan to pick up?_

Emily frowned at the phone. “I’ve no idea. Something simple? A sandwich or a salad probably.”

- _Allez. Lena and I will see you soon._

“Right, bye then.” Emily hung up and went back to tapping at the spreadsheets that had begun to arrive until she realized her phone had buzzed again with a text.

 

**Lena**

 

_Come to the rooftop?_

 

_What?!_

 

_Special delivery. ;)_

* * *

“Oh, god.” Emily shook her head, then stood, walking as casually as she could to the stairwell and climbing until she reached the roof access door, which she noticed was standing conveniently unlocked.

Pushing it open, yes, there was Lena, grinning like the cat who got the cream, while Amélie stood behind her with a little smile of her own holding a bag from a deli down the street.

“So,” she asked with an only half joking frown, “what happened to ‘keeping a low profile’, then?”

“That’s for during the day,” Lena assured her airily, “this is lunchtime. Besides, I know you – if we hadn’t taken the time, you’d tell us you planned to eat and then get lost in your numbers until a meeting happened – and still wouldn’t eat – and be starving by the time we picked you up tonight.”

Emily tried to glare at them, but her heart wasn’t in it. Lena was absolutely right, and this was sweet of them. Ducking her head slightly, she admitted the point. “You’ve got me there. Thanks, lovely. Both of you.”

“Besides,” Lena grinned back at the taller woman, “turns out Amélie is loaded.”

The Frenchwoman shrugged. “It’s a sufficient amount, and better spent on this than anything Talon planned.”

The redhead blinked, trying to process that. “Excuse me?”

Amélie deflected by handing over the bag. “This is a curried chicken sandwich and a cup of cauliflower soup.”

“Thank you,” Emily answered automatically as she took the food, “but what did Lena mean by that?”

The blue skinned woman sighed. “I explained to Lena that when I left the Talon safehouse I had been using, I removed all of the cash that had been kept on hand there. Apparently this is fascinating news.”

“I had wondered where you got the money for food and things the other day,” Emily admitted, “but I supposed you had a little of your own.” She paused. “Ah…exactly how much, if I can ask?”

“Roughly fifteen thousand pounds,” Amélie admitted, and Emily was gratified that Lena’s jaw dropped just as much as hers did, “I have been keeping most of it in the closet, and rationing out a few hundred as I need.”

“ _Fifteen grand_ ,” Lena breathed before she began to laugh, “in the _closet?_ Are you _serious?_ I didn’t think you had that much!”

Emily shook her head in disbelief. “Please tell me it’s in a shoebox or something?”

“Wrapped in black plastic. Nothing obvious.” The taller woman frowned. “The entire purpose of that money is to acquire items without attracting attention. I could not open a bank account.”

“Right, yes…no…” Emily sighed, checking her watch. “I should get back to work, but…if I can suggest purchasing a lockbox? I trust our neighbors, but that is a _lot_ of money to have lying around.”

“I mean,” Lena grinned, “most people at least keep it under the _mattress_.”

“Thank you, darling, that’s  _very_ helpful.” Emily offered a long suffering look to the sniper – _do you see what I have to deal with?_ – who just shrugged. “Anyway. Thank you both for bringing lunch by, and I’ll do my best to be done by five thirty, all right?”

Lena nodded. “We’ll see you then. If you want to meet us up on the roof again, we could have Amélie give you a grappling hook ride! It was pretty fun getting up here that way.”

Emily shook her head. “…I think I’ll just meet you at the door, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Suit yourself, luv. Have a good afternoon!” Lena sketched a salute, and with a flash of blue light she was making her way down towards the street again, while Amélie gave a more reserved smile and wave.

“If you change your mind,” she offered, raising her gauntleted hand, “let us know.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Weren’t you supposed to be the restrained one?”

The blue skinned woman gave a Gallic little shrug. “Her enthusiasm can be very…infectious. Enjoy your lunch.” Then Amélie set herself and fired the grapple, using it to carry her away in the same general direction as Lena.

Shaking her head with a chuckle, Emily descended the stairs again, making her way back to the office. _Well, Emily, if you wanted_ normal _, you’d have dated a dentist, wouldn’t you?_

As she munched on half of her sandwich and began carefully inspecting the third quarter reports, she had to admit the idea of getting grabbed and swung around by Amélie while Lena cheered her on wasn’t _bad_. Maybe somewhere a little less obvious, sure, and certainly not in broad daylight. If they went for a swing around the warehouses and rooftops out near Harringay, maybe…she’d had worse evenings than clinging to a leggy Frenchwoman’s waist while her girlfriend laughed and danced around them…

_Oh, for God’s sake, focus._

Right. Numbers. She could do numbers. Absolutely do numbers and NOT think about **ANYTHING** except the numbers.

She took another bite from her sandwich and shook her head at her own foolishness.

_Numbers._

Right.


	10. Cauchemars et Rêves

It wasn’t surprising she was having a nightmare. Amélie had nightmares every night.

The nature of this one, though…that was new.

_Widow’s Kiss in her hands as she walks across a kitchen floor covered in shattered glass and broken plates. Her boots crunching over the debris as she moved towards the bedrooms, a trail of blood leading her onward._

_Sweep the hallway._

_Clear._

_Bloody handprints on the wall._

_Kicking open the bathroom door, rifle raised._

_Clear._

_The sounds of a ragged gasp from the master bedroom._

_Running forward, shouldering the door open, freezing in her tracks at what she sees._

_The blood dripping from Lena’s side, her white top slicked with crimson. Sparks flying from the damaged accelerator like falling stars._

_Emily’s pale skin now a shade of blue slightly lighter than her own. Her flaming hair twisted to lavender tresses that darkened to royal purple._

_Bloody fingers lightly stroking Lena’s cheek before Emily drove the knife into her lover’s breast again. The shorter woman’s mouth open in a silent cry of pain, her eyes widening for an instant before they would no longer see anything again._

_Silver eyes meeting gold._

_“Hello, sweet. Be with you in just a mo…”_

_Screaming Lena’s name as she lunges forward._

_She was already too late._

* * *

“Amélie?”

The bed was shaking just enough to help her to break away from her nightmare, the bloody phantom's voice fading, replaced with real voices in her ears..

“Amélie, hey, we’re here…you’re all right.” 

“Come back, it’s just a dream, we’re here…”

Amélie shivered from the lingering unease as her eyes slowly opened, two sets of eyes (green and brown, no silver, no gold) looking back at her with concern.

Lena reached out, but didn’t quite take her hand. Offered reassurance without forcing anything. “Em woke up – heard you calling out my name.”

Amélie needed a moment to be able to find her words, propping herself up as much as she could with the other two women on the bed. “I…I am sorry for waking you both.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for having a nightmare,” Emily countered firmly as she stood, smoothing down her nightdress, “Lena, stay here while I grab something?”

“Sure,” the brunette replied instantly, “no problem.” Her figure looked oddly misshapen, and after a moment Amélie realized Lena had the accelerator harness tucked under her shoulder like some kind of bizarre messenger bag. She must have grabbed it off the bedside hook and carried it that way.

“Emily seemed surprised you were having nightmares,” Lena asked gently, “has it been awhile since they were this bad?”

Amélie shrugged. “You do not seem surprised at all.”

Lena’s voice was soft, and incredibly serious. Her eyes filled with sympathy and understanding. “Of course I’m not.”

_Oh._

Lena’s hand was still resting on the mattress. Amélie reached out to place hers atop it, the warmth reassuring and slightly uncomfortable all at once.

She collected her thoughts before trying to speak again. “Others…older ones…they are not pleasant, but they are familiar.” Her eyes flicked to the tattoo on her forearm. _Cauchemar_. A warning. A reminder. “They come and go. This was…not one I have dealt with before.”

Lena seemed like she wanted to ask another question, but held herself to a wordless nod, both of them looking to the door when Emily returned, a bright blue and orange plastic toy in her hands.

“I remembered what you said about your rifle being comforting, sometimes,” the redhead explained as she offered the foam dart gun, “and I noticed the other day your hand moved like you wanted to hold something while you were having trouble talking. I thought that maybe this would be a good substitute.”

The weight was all wrong, but the textured plastic of the grip and stock had a welcome solidity under her touch. It wasn’t quite the same as Widow’s Kiss, but still provided something to hold and steady herself with. Shifting herself fully upright, Amélie put the toy to her shoulder, instinctively sighting in, while Emily and Lena both moved to avoid her possible lines of fire. Her finger rested against the side of the trigger guard, and she took a deep breath, holding it until her modified lungs ached for release. Finally, she exhaled out through her nose, bringing the toy down and settling it across her lap. “ _Merci._ It is not the same…but it is helpful.”

Lena’s smile brightened. “Do _I_ get a toy gun?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “ _You_ are perfectly capable of going to a toy shop, sweet. This was a gift.”

“Aww.” Lena didn’t exactly wink at her, but something in the way her eyes widened for a moment gave Amélie the same cue. “Might make for an interesting twist next time we play tag.”

“You’re _not._  You two can chase each other across London without extra help.” Emily crossed her arms. “Besides, putting darts all over the Row would be littering. These are strictly for inside.”

“Then we may shoot each other as long as we stay inside the flat?” She didn’t quite manage to smile, but Amélie felt a little more at ease as she made the little joke. “I will keep that in mind.”

“Am I going to have to arm myself?” Emily’s eyes twinkled despite her skeptical tone. “Because if you two start that up, I’m going to want to offer my reply.”

“I’ve heard worse ideas, luv.” Lena tapped the side of her nose, then looked back, offering a reassuring smile. “So…would you like us to sit up with you for a bit? You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, but if having a little company will ease your mind, we’re here.”

Emily nodded agreement. “I can put the kettle on if you like. We’ve got catnip and chamomile in the cupboard – those put me out like a light.  Or I could make coffee, if you think you’d rather just stay up.”

“You have to work tomorrow,” Amélie hedged, “and Lena should be getting ready to return to Gibraltar shortly.”

“That’s not what either of us were asking,” Emily countered, “and I think that sounds to me like you could use someone to stay up with you.”

“At least for a little while,” the sniper conceded, Lena scooting off the bed so she could get up, “it would be…I would appreciate it.”

“Right,” Emily nodded as she rose, “I’ll get the kettle on. TV’s going to be rubbish right now, but we can put on a movie.”

They ended up on the couch again, Emily insisting the Frenchwoman take the center seat, flanked by her…well. Housemates was too cold a word for this.

_Friends?_

That was closer, anyway.

They didn’t object when she put the toy rifle on the coffee table.

Emily had produced three cups of herbal tea, and picked out what to watch.

“This one’s old – the books they based it on were from more than a hundred years ago, and the movie’s old enough to get a Senior Railcard, but it’s good. A bit slow paced in parts, but I think that suits for tonight.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow when Lena put her feet up across her lap, but it wasn’t unwelcome, really. Emily turned down half the lights, then pressed play on the remote.

_It all began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves; immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings._

_Seven, to the Dwarf Lords, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of Men, who above all else desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and the will to govern over each race._

_But they were all of them deceived, for another ring was made…_

They’d been watching the movie for perhaps three quarters of an hour when something suddenly became completely clear.

“Emily?”

The redhead looked over, her eyes half lidded from the late hour and the tea. “Mm? Yes, darling?”

Amélie blushed slightly. She hadn’t expected to be called that, but…that wasn’t unwelcome either, was it? She gestured to the television, hoping to distract from her reaction. “Is Lena a hobbit?”

Lena’s nose scrunched up. “What? No!”

“Small,” the Frenchwoman started to tick points off on her fingers, “insatiable –”

“Oh,” Emily interrupted, “you’ve no idea.”

“ _Thank you_ , pet.”

“You’re welcome, sweet.”

Amélie rolled her eyes as she returned to her list, “She seems to have an inexhaustible list of times for meals –”

Lena began to pout. “Do you want me to start kicking? I can start kicking.”

“Don’t you dare, you’ll get tea on the couch.” Emily grinned over, her eyes flashing in the reflected light. “Now, she doesn’t have any fur on her feet that I’ve seen, though you _do_ go through an awful lot of razors…”

“I don’t actually have to take this,” Lena objected, “I can leave at any time.”

Emily’s grin turned wicked. “Amélie, please start rubbing the hobbit’s feet.”

That drew a confused look, but she did as instructed. “ _Pourquoi?_ ”

“Because I’m not playing fair,” Emily explained, “obviously.”

“Ah.”

“This…” Lena sighed as deft fingers continued their massage, “this is collusion. Unfair advantage.” She wiggled her back and shoulders against the corner of the couch. “Don’t stop.”

Lena closed her eyes not too long past the battle at Weathertop, and was softly snoring by the time the Fellowship reached Rivendell.

Amélie’s eyes finally drooped closed shortly after the escape from Moria, though she heard most of the remaining dialogue before she finally slipped into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

Emily kissed both of their foreheads, then turned the movie off as the credits began to roll. She brought extra blankets out to put over all of them, then settled back down onto the couch, sending an email that she would be out of the office the next day before she drifted off, her head settling against Amélie’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art piece for this chapter was created by [the amazing and talented Dogtit!](http://dogtit.tumblr.com). Please go give them some love for their awesome work!


	11. Stoppage Time

There were several problems, Amélie decided, with sleeping on the couch.

The seated position meant her back and neck were both stiff, and her legs had not appreciated being tucked under the coffee table for more than five hours.

On the other hand…Lena’s legs still stretched across her lap when she’d woken up, and Emily’s head rested against her shoulder, a content smile on the redhead's lips.

A feeling of warmth had spread through her, and she wanted to claim it was from the blankets that Emily must have draped across them, but…

 _What she means,_ Emily’s voice drolly ran through mind, _is that she had a bit of a crush._

She didn’t. She _couldn’t_.

_I’m pretty sure your heart is beating, by the by._

What were they _doing?_

What was  _she_ doing?

She carefully shifted Emily until she was resting against the corner of the couch, drawing a murmur, but thankfully not waking her. Lifting Lena’s feet until she could slip out was fairly simple, and to her relief that didn’t even interrupt her soft snoring.

Amélie made her way to the bathroom and turned on the shower, running it as warm as she could stand. She pulled off the nightshirt she’d been wearing and stepped in, letting the steam and the driving water start to relieve the aches and tension in her body.

If only it could help make sense of her whirling mind.

_Were you jealous of me? Or of Lena?_

She _had_ been jealous of both of them, for what they had, for what they were.

How much of Lena’s _Joie de Vivre_ sprang from Emily’s quiet strength and support?

How much of Emily’s dry humor and open heart came out of knowing she could always draw on Lena’s energy and enthusiasm?

They made each other stronger. Happier. Warmth and light, together. What use was she to them, when they had each other?

Amélie knew that she ought to leave. Emily was safe. Lena would keep her that way, and she could return to the shadows. Hide in the places where no one would look. Strike, if needed, where no one could see. Let the two of them be happy, together, and in love.

As if in reply to that thought, her mind flashed to their conversation on the balcony, and Emily’s raised eyebrow.

_Did I imply at any time that I wanted that?_

She hadn’t.

Lena’s voice joined her increasingly crowded thoughts.

_Emily wants you to stay, you know that._

And do you want me to stay?

_I guess that’s what I’m trying to tell you, yeah._

They didn’t want her to go.

 _She_ didn’t want to go.

Amélie hadn’t had many lovers before marrying Gérard that she could remember, but she knew a few had been women.

Her attraction to Lena – yes, fine, her _crush_ , if she had to put it in such a juvenile way – had grown from the emotions that Tracer had roused during their fights

What she felt for Emily was…very similar, if she was being honest with herself. It rose from different sources, but…spending time with each of them made her feel the same.

If the two of them formed a blaze, then she was warmed by it.

_Perhaps there is more than one way to feel so alive._

But that was foolish. The only thing more foolish than falling for a taken woman was falling for _both_ of them. Such things were the plots of trashy movies and books, like the _telenovelas_ that Sombra and Gabriel watched.

And yet…

_That’s not how this works – here, I’ll show you._

_This is collusion. Unfair advantage…Don’t stop._

She was reading too much into their words.

Wasn’t she?

She thought about how peaceful Emily had looked, resting against her. She’d obviously known they’d both fallen asleep on the couch, and had put the blankets over them. She hadn’t fallen asleep there by accident.

_If I decided I liked them, the hardware wasn’t a concern._

Amélie pressed her head against the tiled wall of the shower.

The water had begun to cool. In a flash, she saw the nightmare vision which had started…whatever last night had been.

Silver eyes. Lavender hair. Pale blue fingers slick with bright red blood.

_Hello, sweet._

Amélie shook for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold water running down her back.

“I’ll leave.”

She reached out to turn off the water.

“This will be better for all of us.”

She grabbed a towel and began to dry herself off, deliberately avoiding her own reflection in the mirror.

“I will tell them tonight.”

If she kept telling herself it was what she wanted, she might start to believe it by the time they had dinner.

By the time had Amélie finished dressing, Lena had woken up and apparently gone straight to making breakfast, judging by the stack of already finished pancakes next to the stove.

“Morning! Em left a note – called off work after we both fell asleep.”

Amélie nodded absently. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad, after what she had decided. Taking a plate from the cupboard, she decided to focus on food (would she go back to ration bars? She didn’t have any glucose injections left. She’d gotten used to regular meals…)

“It must be very special for you to make these on a weekday,” Amélie finally offered. “Is there any protein to go with them?”

“Special circumstances,” Lena winked, “and I was going to fry up some bacon but I realized we were out. There’s eggs if you’d like a little extra, though.”

“ _Merci_.”

“No trouble,” Lena assured, “but while Em’s still asleep I had a question for you…”

Amélie tensed. Had Lena overheard her when she spoke in the shower? “…yes?”

“Well. Since we _don’t_ have to keep a perimeter up for Emily at work today, I was wondering…” Lena paused to flip the latest pancake, then picked back up the thread. “Y’see, there’s a match on this afternoon. Champion’s League against Barca. I thought I’d ask if you might like to go down to the pub with me? I didn’t know if you liked footy, but I was thinking you might like to give it a try.  Em’s a rugger girl and she’ll tolerate it, but I know her heart wouldn’t be in it if I asked her to come with.”

That was not like anything she’d expected to be asked, and it took her a moment to consider her answer.

“I wouldn’t be expected to root for one side or the other?”

Lena grinned. “Nah. But you may have to put up with me singing along with the lads, depending on how things go.”

Amélie felt a wave of guilt. She was planning to walk away, and they _still_ wanted her to be involved.

But at the same time it might make for a good way to explain her decision to Lena privately, and then they could speak to Emily together….

“All right. What time will we be leaving?”

Lena turned from the stove to give her an enthusiastic hug. “Brilliant! I hate going down there by myself! Match starts at quarter to three, so let’s say two fifteen? We can walk to the Black Unicorn – that way I can have a pint or two while we watch the game.”

Amélie glanced at the nearest clock. “Then I suppose I have…three hours to find something appropriate to wear.”

Lena shrugged as she turned back to the stove. “What you’ve got on is fine – I mean, I can lend you an extra kit if you want, but you’re perfectly welcome to just go with that.”

“ _D’accord._ ”

* * *

Emily smiled as Lena explained her plan for the afternoon. “I think it’s a lovely idea. I already told you to spend a little more time together, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Lena agreed as she hunted through their closet, “swore I hung my away kit up after the last time I washed it…”

“Did you check the dresser? You might have folded it up.” The redhead opened a drawer, taking a look at the contents.

“Mm. Maybe…”

Emily opened another drawer, then clucked her tongue as she drew out the bright yellow shirt. “This looks familiar.”

“Thanks, luv.” Lena started to shrug out of the shirt and shorts she’d worn to bed. “Suppose I ought to shower too.”

“You might, yes.” Emily laid the shirt on the bed, then raised an eyebrow. “So, did Amélie say much about last night to you?”

“Not as such,” Lena admitted as she grabbed a towel, “but I didn’t press. I mean, obviously that nightmare had something to do with me.” She looked over at where her lover sat on the bed. “If I had to bet it had something to do with both of us, since she said it wasn’t one she’d had before. Past that, she seemed a little out of sorts when she was having breakfast, but she did sleep sitting up on the couch, you know?”

That drew an acknowledging nod. “True enough. I suppose I was just wondering if she said anything about…well. The _reasons_ for it were terrible, but the movie on the couch was nice.”

“It was,” Lena admitted, “but…baby steps, yeah?” She thought of the look in the sniper’s eyes as they’d sparred on the rooftops, the lavender that had spread on her cheeks when Lena had managed her one good pin. “I admit you were probably right about her having a crush on me –”

“Thank you.”

Lena stuck out her tongue before continuing on. “But that’s still not really the same as…well.”

Emily smiled. “You can say ‘she might fancy both of us’, sweet.”

Lena sighed. “She might. I don’t know, luv. It’s easy to get carried away…got that wrong before, didn’t we?”

“Once or twice,” Emily admitted, “but you have to admit she’d have a pretty good idea of what she was getting into.”

“There is that,” Lena bit her lip for a moment in thought, then sighed, “I dunno. I mean I wouldn’t _mind_ , yeah, she’s…well.”

“Yes,” Emily grinned, “well.”

“But she probably isn’t.”

“I told you before: she might surprise you.”

“Even if she _did_ ,” Lena shook her head in a bit of disbelief at the whole conversation, “she’d need time to figure that out.”

Emily laughed softly. “Like six months of watching over us, you mean?”

“…you really think this is happening, don’t you?”

“Sweet, I’ve been watching how she looks at us. How she’s been acting around us. Bet you a tenner.”

Lena snorted as she grabbed the accelerator and headed for the bathroom. “Right, fine.”

* * *

While Lena showered and dressed, Emily had come out to the living room with a book, lounging on the couch as she read.

“I may take a nap later,” she admitted to Amélie, “but I think I’ll mostly just try to relax and put a spot of dinner on when you get back. Don’t let Lena fill up on snacks at the pub, please?”

“I will do my best,” the Frenchwoman agreed, “but she may decide to make up another name for a meal.”

The redhead snorted with amusement. “I may have to start calling her ‘Baggins’.” She waved in the general direction of the television set. “There’s two more of those, if you’re interested, plus the books, and Bilbo’s story – the one they mention at the beginning, with the dragon.”

She felt as if she was being pulled in opposite directions by the part of her which wanted to have another night like the last with them, and part that was convinced she needed to leave. A pang of need for _more_ , and the pain of knowing she didn’t deserve to have it.

“Perhaps later,” she finally hedged, “but I did enjoy the first movie.”

Emily’s expression shifted for a moment to something a bit more concerned – perhaps catching the sniper’s unease – but turned back to her book with a smile. “Well, when you’d like to see more, we can do another night in. Lena likes them well enough, but she’s not married to them – maybe it would be a good thing to watch when she’s out of town.”

Before Amélie could find a way to answer, Lena emerged, clad nearly head to toe in canary yellow with black stripes from her away jersey, matching leggings, a pair of those absurd shoes in black, and her accelerator belted on over the outfit. The only splash of any other colors came from a wide red and white striped scarf draped over her neck, which had been wound through the shoulder straps of her harness.

“Right! All dressed to go, then!”

Amélie couldn’t help but snort. “After such effort to coordinate your outfit, I am surprised you do not have a yellow accelerator to go with it.”

Lena sighed. “I asked Winston once, and he made the _face_ , and it was all ‘Lena, this is vital life support equipment for you, not a fashion accessory’ and that was the end of that.” She huffed, then brightened back up after a moment. “Still, not all bad. The club liked that I was a fan, back before it all came apart, so I used to get free tickets all the time!”

Standing up, Amélie considered herself for a moment in a fairly plain pair of dark slacks, a light grey top, and a dark blue scarf. “I admit that it will be an interesting change to be the inconspicuous one, for once.”

Lena stuck out her tongue as Emily laughed at them both.

“Do try to get yourselves home in one piece, sweet.”

Lena crossed to kiss the redhead goodbye. “We’ll behave, promise.”

* * *

As they walked into the Black Unicorn, Lena suddenly realized there might be an issue. The pub wasn’t as packed as it would be for a Saturday or Sunday match, but it was still doing brisk business for a Wednesday afternoon.

She turned back to where Amélie was scanning the room, her eyes flicking around the groups congregating around tables and televisions. “You going to be OK here? Sorry, I didn’t think.”

Amélie took one last look around, then nodded. “I will be able to manage, but…if we can find a seat where our backs will be against a wall or barrier it would be more comfortable.”

“Got you. We’ll find something.” Making her way through the crowd with the taller woman trailing close behind, she exchanged hellos and hi-fives with several other regulars before finding a small table still open near the back corner. “Will this work?”

Amélie nodded, sitting down. “It works. How much time do we have before the match starts?”

Lena looked over to the nearest screen. “Enough time for a pint, I’d say. Would you like one?”

“It seems a good way to blend in,” Amélie admitted, “but I normally drink wine if I drink at all.”

“Let me get you something pretty easy, then. Want some nuts? Crisps?”

That got a little smile. “Emily warned me not to let you spoil your dinner.”

Rolling her eyes, Lena waved that away. “I’ll be fine. Back in a jiff.”

Thanks to the bartender knowing her usual and (if she was honest) the big glowing searchlight on her chest, it was pretty easy to get their attention and pick up the first round. Returning to their table with two pints (bitter for her, a Stella for Amélie), a packet of nuts gripped between the fingers of each hand, and a bag of crisps hanging precariously from her teeth, she carefully set down her burdens before settling in.

“I’m not sure if that was impressive or terrifying, _chérie._ ”

Lena was about to make a reply, but it was washed away by cheers as all of the screens in the pub changed to show the pitch at Camp Nou, where both teams were walking onto the field. Grinning, she raised her voice to join the crowd.

 _Oooh to, oooh to be, oooh to be a Gooner,  
_ _Oooh to, oooh to be, oooh to be a Gooner…_

* * *

 

_Arsenal till I die, I’m Arsenal till I die!_

_I know I am, I’m sure I am, I’m Arsenal till I die!_

The noise in the pub when the organized chants began was considerable, but Amélie would admit it wasn’t so bad. She had plenty of warning from the apparent leaders, who tended to stand and hold up fingers that apparently corresponded to the cheer or song they were calling for.

The beer wasn’t bad either, honestly. She was nursing it, along with a handful of nuts, but it went well with the atmosphere.

Lena had gotten fully absorbed in the scoreless match almost immediately, and was well on her way through her third pint as they approached halftime, enthusiastically joining in with the cheers and occasionally shooting to her feet to argue with a call or when a play came close to opening the scoring.

“I suppose I should have expected you to be very…well versed in all of this,” she admitted to the younger woman during a quiet period, “I understand the game, but the…performances make me feel a bit lost.”

“Ah,” Lena nodded sagely, her face just slightly flushed, “yeah, it’s a bit confusing if you didn’t grow up in it, I suppose.”

“I am assuming you did?”

“Mmhmm. Born into it, really, and like the cheer says, ‘Arsenal ’til I die.’” She winked, then finished the last pull of her beer. “Half’s coming up. Would you like another round?”

Amélie considered that for a moment, then drained the last of her first glass. “Yes, but I think I will try what you are having. You certainly seem to like it.”

Lena giggled. “It’s a weakness, yeah. I usually only have a beer or two if I’m drinking outside the flat, but I can relax a bit here on match days. Lads know me and they’ll call Em or a cab if I really need help. I can do a few tricks with the accelerator, too, but…you’re here, and you’ve been…” Her cheeks reddened further, the Brit’s voice dropping to where it was almost difficult to hear. “You’d take care of it, right? So I’m safe.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m _safe_. Never could have imagined saying that to you before this all started.”

Amélie’s heart clenched just as it had during some of their other conversations of late, and now she knew exactly why. “Go pick up the drinks, _chérie,_ but…I did want to talk to you about something after the match is over, so it might be good to slow down in the second half?”

“Sure, yeah, I can do,” Lena promised, “let me grab the fresh ones and I’ll be right back.”  
  
_We love you Arsenal, we do,_  
_We love you Arsenal, we do,_  
_We love you Arsenal, we do,_  
_Ohhhh Arsenal we love you!_

True to her word, Lena did slow her intake a bit in the second half, keeping herself to one beer in the halftime and one during play. Amélie thought the ‘best bitter’ as Lena called it was tolerable, but neither beer was going to convince her to give up wine for them any time soon.

As the game went on, still scoreless, she could feel the tension slowly growing in the pub, with the chants and calls dying away, replaced by hushed voices and little gasps or sighs as opportunities were missed or saves made by both sides.

“What happens,” she whispered softly, “if there is no score at the end of the time?”

“This is a knockout match,” Lena murmured, “so it’ll be thirty minutes of extra time, and if there’s still no score, or a tie, it goes to penalties.”

Amélie nodded, taking another pull of her beer.

The match had come down to the final minutes, still with no score, with the timekeepers announcing that three minutes would be added to the regulation time.

“C’mon,” Lena whispered, hunching over as if she could force the ball into the net by sheer force of will, “get in, lads, come on!”

As if they’d heard her, the Arsenal players swarmed around the Barcelona goal in the ninety first minute, a kick sending the ball back, away from the defenders, then a sharp strike from the midfielder putting the ball on net…where one of his teammates was waiting to deflect it around the goaltender with a leaping header, the white and blue star patterned ball bouncing off the top of the goal, then into the back of the net.

The pub _exploded_ in a roar of delight and triumph that was almost a physical force, with fans leaping to their feet as the players and traveling fans in the crowd celebrated on the screen.

Amélie was shocked by the sudden intensity as the tension that had built all afternoon was released, but not nearly as shocked as she was by Lena leaping up with a wordless cry of joy, then pressing against her for a fervent kiss.

Amélie’s eyes widened in surprise, and a moment later Lena disengaged, blushing so deeply that the tips of her ears turned a rich rose color, her hands coming up to her mouth with embarrassment.

“Oh my _God_ I’m sorry I got carried away and I’m a bit pissed and _you_ didn’t ask and _I_ didn’t ask and Em and I talked a _little_ but _we_ didn’t and you’re probably _not_ and I’m so _sorry_ you probably want to slap me I should _not have done that_.”

Amélie stared wordlessly as Lena flailed helplessly for what had to have been at least thirty seconds as everything that had been spinning through her mind for most of the day suddenly came to a crashing halt.

Then she reached out and grabbed a fistful of Lena’s shirt, yanked her forward so firmly that the shorter woman was pulled off her feet, and kissed her back fiercely while the rest of the pub continued to sing, celebrating the victory as the whistles blew for full time.

 _And it’s 1 to Nil Arsenal,_  
_Arsenal FC,_  
_We’re by far the greatest team,_  
_The world has ever seen!_

Both women were breathless when they disengaged, and Amélie wasn’t sure which of them was more shocked by what had just happened.

Finally, Lena put a hand to the back of her head, still blushing as they both tried to recover their equilibrium. “So, ah, you wanted to talk to me about something…?”

Amélie nodded, her heart hammering at her ribs. “I was…I was going to tell you that I thought it might be best if I left. Because of how I feel about you. Because of how I feel about Emily, and because I did not want to…get in the way any longer.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “And…now?”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

* * *

Emily looked over at the living room clock as she finished her book. The match would be finishing up soon. She really ought to pull a few things out and start dinner. She’d been about to stand and go to work on that when her phone buzzed, demanding her attention.

**Lena**

 

_IOU £10._

 

Emily laughed, wondering just what had happened down at the pub. “I said that she’d surprise you, didn’t I?”

 

_Told you, sweet._

_I want to hear all about this when you two get home!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The local Brazilian translator has asked me to pass along a message for the Brazilian fans reading this fic: "SEGURA ESSA MARIMBA AÍ MONAMOUR"


	12. Shifting Gears, Gaining Traction

Emily had just finished putting a dish of ratatouille and sausages into the oven when she heard the apartment’s front door open.

“Ahh, there we are.”

She wasn’t surprised to see Lena leaning on Amélie for support. It usually didn’t take her _too_ long to sober up after an afternoon at the Unicorn, but one look at the color in Lena’s cheeks and her slightly too bright eyes told Emily that her girl was still fairly pickled as she came over for a welcome home kiss.

“Hello, sweet. Exactly how much did you have to drink?”

“Oh, umm…five? No. Six? I think it was six. Just bitter, nothing crazy.” Lena looked up to the blue skinned woman who still had a steadying hand against her side. “Amélie had two. And we won! Top four here we come!”

Emily looked over to where the Frenchwoman was giving Lena an indulgent look. “So, did you have fun? She may insist you were a good luck charm.”

“It was…interesting. I did enjoy myself.” Her cheeks were touched with lavender. “I…we…”

Emily stood with her arms crossed, smiling.

Lena coughed. “I got a little carried away after Banerjee headed one in during stoppage time.”

“Did you?” Emily raised an eyebrow. “And after that…?”

Amélie smiled, surprisingly shyly, and the redhead felt herself melt just a little. “I…suppose you could say I got carried away, too.”

“I was thinking I was about to get slapped,” Lena admitted, “and then she just about yanked me out of my shoes.”

“Well,” Emily chuckled as she reached out to ruffle her girlfriend’s hair, “between the two of us I suppose she did see you first.”

“Lena said you…” Amélie looked for the right words. “Discussed the possibility?”

“That is one way to put it,” Emily agreed, “and how do you feel?”

“I…” The lavender blush was in full effect now. “I had originally planned to tell Lena that I was going to leave, because I was concerned about how I felt about her…and you.”

Emily reached out to gently cup the taller woman’s cheek. “I hope you’ve reconsidered that.”

“ _Oui_ ,” Amélie breathed, “I have. I will stay.”

Emily smiled, lightly stroking Amélie’s chin. “Good. We have things to talk about.” Stepping back, she nodded towards the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in half an hour. Lena, did you want some water?”

Lena nodded with a distinct wobble. “Yeaaah, probably a good idea. I’ll have a hell of a headache in a couple hours if I don’t.”

“Right. You two sit, I’ll be back.”

* * *

 

Emily returned from the kitchen with two large bottles of water, placing one in front of Lena, then sat down across from Amélie before sliding the other bottle to her.

“Drink that down,” she gently but firmly ordered, “plenty of time before the food will be ready.”

Amélie popped the cap and began to sip at the water, while Lena opened hers and began taking pulls with the same gusto that she had been consuming pints with earlier.

“So,” Amélie asked after she’d finished about half of her bottle, “you wanted to have a discussion?”

“I do,” Emily agreed, “but I’d like to wait until after we eat. Among other things, Lena should be a bit more sober.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t worry,” Emily assured her, “I think you’ve noticed that I’m not angry, but just to make it clear – I’m not upset with either of you.” She gave Lena a smug glance. “But I am rather amused with _you_ , sweet. ‘Baby steps’, was it?”

Lena sighed. “Can I blame John Courage?”

Emily just smiled indulgently.

Shortly after Amélie had finished her bottle of water, and Lena made to drink a second ‘just to be careful’, Emily returned from the kitchen with bowls of food for each of them. “I suppose,” she observed, “I ought to put the leaf back in the kitchen table so we can properly sit three in there.”

Lena shrugged. “I don’t mind sitting around the coffee table, you know. More room to spread out here, too.”

“You also would lose a fair bit of room to move in the kitchen,” Amélie pointed out, “this apartment is charming, but space in there is at a premium.”

“It’s a fair cop.” Emily took another bite of her vegetables, then looked across the room. “And this is comfortable.”

They ate in relative silence, aside from a few compliments about the food. Once the leftovers had been put away and the dishwasher started, Emily gave Lena a careful look. “Are you going to remember this conversation tomorrow, or do you need to take steps to sober up completely?”

Lena straightened up in her chair, giving it all due consideration. “I think I’m right enough, now.”

“What kind of ‘steps’ would be taken,” Amélie wondered, “if you were not?”

Lena tapped the fairing of her accelerator. “I’d take a few hops – basically move myself forward on my timeline to get the alcohol to process faster. Not terribly fun for me, but it works.” She paused, looking down at the device. “Actually, mind if I slip this off before we talk?”

Emily nodded. “Not a bad idea. Either of you need to use the toilet? I’d hate to get halfway in and need to stop.”

Lena sighed. “Better safe than sorry I suppose.”

Once that business was done, Amélie noticed that Emily took the lead again, much as they had back on the day Lena had discovered their new living arrangements. “So. Where would you like us to start, Amélie?”

“You asked me once,” Amélie began, “if I was jealous of you, or of Lena, when I saw you both together.” She paused, trying to order her words carefully. “I told you that I thought I was jealous for what the two of you had. I…began to realize that was _true_ , but it was not the _complete_ truth.”

Emily nodded, but didn’t interrupt, while Lena sat very carefully upright. At first it seemed like the brunette was doing it to counterbalance the alcohol still in her system, but there was something else there. A focused awareness that reminded Amélie of the look in Tracer’s eyes as they fought on the rooftops. She made a mental note, then continued on.

“This morning, I was faced with the reality that the feelings I had were more complex than that. I’ve had to admit that I was increasingly attracted to Lena for some time. But I had not admitted to myself that I had become attracted to both of you. Separately and together.”

Emily raised an eyebrow at Lena, who just closed her eyes and gave a very slight nod of her head.  

“So,” Emily asked as she leaned forward slightly on the couch, “can you tell us why you decided to leave, in the face of that?”

“You have each other,” Amélie answered quietly, “and I was…I did not think that I would fit into that. That I was foolish for allowing myself to fall for one of you, let alone _both_. For wanting to be a part of what you have. I thought it better if I let myself slip back into the shadows. Stay at a distance. Keep out of the way. I was planning to tell Lena about my decision while we were at the pub, and ask her to help me explain things to you.”

“Obviously that plan went out the window,” Emily observed with a little smile, “but as much faith as I have in my girl’s kissing abilities, I have a feeling that wasn’t the only thing to change your mind.”

“No,” Amélie admitted, “when Lena was attempting to apologize for kissing me, she let slip that the two of you had conversations about me. I thought about many things you had said – that you both had said – and I realized…” She looked carefully at Emily. “How long have you been interested in me?”

“I thought you were beautiful from the moment I saw you,” Emily confessed, “but I was sincere about what I told you – the more you appeared on the edges of our lives, the more I felt you wanted to find a way in, and I wanted to help.”

Amélie considered that, then nodded. “And the rest?”

“I told you once before,” Emily said quietly, “if I decided I liked someone, the hardware wasn’t a concern.”

She gave the redhead a thoughtful look. “As early as the corset shop?”

“No,” Lena grinned, “that was mostly because she’s completely shameless.”

Emily shrugged. “I didn’t really know you very well at that point, but it was a good way to talk to you. I will admit I appreciated the way you looked at me while I was trying things on.”

Amélie could feel warmth in her cheeks again, but did her best to focus on the matter at hand. “So, the two of you are…?”

“Not strictly monogamous,” Emily answered, “if that is what you are asking. Lena and I have each been involved with others before, often simultaneously. Sometimes we’ve asked if they wanted to be part of a more permanent arrangement, but I think you’re aware that living with someone in Lena’s line of work can be a lot to take on board.”

Lena sighed. “And the bloody PETRAS Act, and then the Recall…”

Emily nodded. “Very few even wanted to try more than just a casual sort of fling.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. “Is there anyone else, currently?”

Emily’s eyes gleamed. “I think the answer to that depends on you.”

“If I said yes,” Amélie asked cautiously, “what happens then?”

“As little or as much as you’re comfortable with,” Emily responded without hesitation, “You set the pace. There are a number of things I think both of us would enjoy exploring with you, but we don’t want you to feel overwhelmed.”

“Absolutely,” Lena agreed with a firm nod, “you say stop? We stop. No questions asked, no explanations required.”

“And if there are things you want – or need – please tell us.” Emily gave Lena a look that seemed to have an equal amount of affection and mischief in it. “Lena’s very good with lists, aren’t you, sweet?”

Lena’s blushed almost as deeply as she had in the pub, but didn’t say more.

Amélie reached below the coffee table, taking out the toy rifle and cradling it in her lap, running her fingers over the fanciful markings on the stock before she spoke. “There is part of me that wants to tell you ‘yes’, and try to take anything you…both of you…would wish to give me. And there is part of me that says I should not have such things. Not simply for the…unconventional nature of them, but because it is so hard for me to think about being…that I deserve to be….”

Emily seemed to sense her struggle for the right word. “Loved?”

Amélie nodded. “It is hard for me to love the person I have been. For me to imagine anyone wishing to love that person.”

Emily stood and walked to the chair where Amélie sat, gently running a warm hand against the cooler skin of the sniper’s cheek, wordlessly encouraging her to look up into gentle green eyes.

“We don’t just see the person you’ve been, Amélie.” Emily’s fingers cradled the back of her head. “We see the person you _are_. And she is easier to love than you give her credit for.”

Amélie rose slightly to meet her, and perhaps Emily drew down as well. The redhead kissed very differently than Lena did, but with no less expertise.

“So,” Emily breathed as she took a slight step back, “how was that?”

Amélie’s lips turned up in a puckish smile as she put the rifle back under the coffee table. “I’m not sure. I may need each of you to demonstrate again.”

“Well,” the redhead chuckled as she drew back in, Lena slipping closer on the couch, “if you _insist_ …”

After several minutes of thorough comparisons, they ended up in a very similar arrangement to the way they’d watched the movie, but this time Lena lay with her head in her new partner’s lap, while Emily sat on the adjacent cushion, leaning against Amélie while she ran her fingers through Lena’s hair.

“I really _ought_ to go back to work tomorrow,” Emily admitted with obvious reluctance, “but at least the day after is Friday.”

“Shame I can’t call Angie and ask her to write you a doctor’s note,” Lena quipped, “‘Dear Mr. Peel – Emily was unable to attend work due to a heart condition. Please excuse her through the weekend.’”

Amélie couldn’t help but tense slightly at the mention of Ziegler, but Emily’s hand gently resting on her shoulder helped a great deal.

“Sadly, I don’t think she’d be willing to diagnose me with anything over the phone,” Emily replied, “shame.”

That closed the book on that potentially awkward subject quite neatly. Amélie knew she’d have to get over her distrust of the doctor eventually – if nothing else, she was one of Lena’s friends – but it was a task she didn’t care to attempt tonight.

Emily seemed to sense that, and opted to flip on the television. “I think maybe a show or two, and then I’ll want to get off to bed.”

“Fair enough,” Lena agreed, then checked her watch, “Top Gear’s on, right?”

“That’ll do.” Emily punched in a channel and a moment later they were watching a curly haired woman put a sports car through a ridiculously tight turn, the sound of a roaring engine nearly drowning out her voice.

“– _a lovely car, the Hechicero, and I’m sure that Dickie is going to complain that it doesn’t have ‘sufficient lunacy’ to be a proper Lambo, whatever_ _that_ _is supposed to mean, but personally I prefer NOT to deal with the usual Italian waiter histrionics when you want to put your foot down.”_

“Ooo,” Lena carefully turned herself so she could see the television, ending up with her back resting against Amélie’s stomach, “I bet that would be pretty fun to drive.”

Emily snorted. “Do you remember what happened the _last_ time you said that?”

Amélie looked down at the brunette. “That sounds like a story I would enjoy, _chérie._ ”

Lena sighed. “Later. Promise.”

The test drive finished, and the camera cut away to that same woman, a tall ginger haired man, and an M-type chassis omnic wearing (of all things) a corduroy jacket with leather patches on the elbows and a turtleneck sweater standing around the car she had been driving, with a large crowd applauding.

The ginger haired man – perhaps the ‘Dickie’ she had mentioned? – turned to the driver. _“So, Peggy, are you saying the Hechicero is the Lamborghini you’ve been waiting for?”_

 _“I’m not sure_ , _”_ the woman replied, _“but I do know it’s time to see_ exactly _how fast it will go around our track_.”

“ _Excellent segue_ ,” the Omnic interrupted, “ _well done._ ”

“ _Thank you,_ ” Peggy grinned, “ _which means it’s time to turn the Hechicero over to our tame racing driver.”_ She paused, holding up a hand. _“Some say that he was built to special order by the Mad Doctor Junkenstein_ ,” that got a ‘oooo’ from the crowd, _“and that he violates the PETRAS Act just by getting behind the wheel._ ”

Lena visibly stiffened at that joke even as the studio audience laughed.

_“All we know is: He’s called the Stig!”_

A blue suited and helmeted figure was shown climbing into the car and driving off, but Amélie’s attention was focused on the woman in her lap.

“Easy, sweet.” Emily’s fingers rested on Lena’s shoulder. “What did you tell me once? If they can mock something, it’s one step closer to people wanting to deal with it?”

“Yeah,” Lena sighed, and Amélie reached down to lightly run her fingernails against her scalp as the smaller woman attempted to relax, “I know, and I know you’re right…it’s just…it _is_ a joke to them, but it really isn’t to me. Not after what I went through. What Winston, Mei, and so many others went through.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “Damn the UN anyway.” Lena was silent for a moment, then looked upwards. “Do keep going with the head scratchings, though, that’s brilliant.”

Emily grinned. “Do you see what I mean about the insatiable part?”

“I had a general idea,” Amélie observed dryly, “but I am gaining an appreciation.”

Lena stuck out her tongue, but made a happy little noise as she focused on the show again.

“ _\- in one minute. Thirty five…point 5! That makes the Hechicero the third fastest car around our track, just behind the Vishkar Kartikeya!”_

As the audience clapped, the camera cut to the ginger haired presenter sitting on a couch. _“And now it is time to put a Star in our Reasonably Priced Car.”_

Emily grinned. “Speaking of that story…”

“Hush.”

The redhead leaned over to kiss Lena’s forehead. “Mmm. Soon enough…”

Amélie didn’t understand what they meant until the aforementioned “Star” (a musician of some kind) was belting into a rather pathetic looking sedan and trying to send it around the show’s racetrack.

 _“Nice bit of speed across the tires there,_ ” Peggy narrated, _“and ooo, a little wobble there going round Tracer’s Corner but he’s pulling it back nicely now…through Gambon aaaaand across the line!_ ”

“Tracer’s Corner?” Amélie looked down. “Now I _do_ want you to explain.”

Lena sighed reluctantly. “Fine…” She turned herself over to look upwards (and by what Amélie was quite certain was not an accident, hooked an arm around her back.) “Just before things went to pot with Overwatch, they had me on the show. Good PR, Em was in heaven because she’s had a crush on Peggy Clarkson since she helped bring the show back…”

Emily snorted. “Like you don’t.”

“Anyway,” Lena went on, “they give you five runs on the track, and then take your best time for the board.”

“That makes sense,” Amélie agreed, “but why is it called _your_ corner?”

Lena began to blush with embarrassment as she explained. “Well…they used to have a _different_ Reasonably Priced Car, y’see _._ They had to replace it because it was raining that day and on my last run I hit the corner a bit too fast, lost traction, and…”

“Rolled it,” Emily finished, “six times!”

That got a weary sigh. “Only I wasn’t _in_ the car, because the moment it started to roll, I rewound by sheer force of habit, so I popped back into the middle of the track, landing splat on my arse in the wet, while the car went on without me.”

“It’s not the first time someone’s wrecked a car there,” Emily noted, “but hers was so _impressive_ that they decided to immortalize it. They still use the footage of Lena reappearing on the track in their adverts sometimes.”

Amélie laughed softly as the story unfolded, shaking her head. “Foolish girl.”

“In my _defense_ ,” Lena noted, “the time they did use ended up being the top of the leaderboard.”

“For all of two weeks before they wiped it and replaced it with the new car,” Emily needled, “yes.”

Amélie snorted. “I suppose if a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well.”

Not long after the show came to an end, and Emily stood as the credits rolled. “Time for bed, I think.”

Lena gave a slightly reluctant groan as she sat up. “Mmmf. Was pretty comfortable where I was…”

“You two are welcome to do what you like,” Emily noted, “I’m just trying to get myself back on something like a normal schedule.”

Amélie considered. “And if I wanted to join you?”

“As much or as little as you like,” Emily restated, “but don't feel any pressure. When you’re ready…” She grinned. “Well. I _think_ the bed is big enough for everyone.”

Amélie smirked. “I imagine Lena compacts quite well.”

Lena looked back and forth between them. “…I should object here, but somehow my heart just isn’t in it.”

“Perhaps another time,” Amélie decided after a moment, “we can test the theory.”

Emily nodded, then gave each of them a kiss goodnight. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Lena watched as the redhead made her way to the bedroom, then turned back with a smile. “Staying up, or turning in?”

“A shower,” Amélie decided, “and then bed. If Emily is getting back to her routine, I will work on returning to mine.”

“Fair enough,” Lena agreed with a smile, “and…obviously didn’t expect things to go _this_ direction when I invited you out to the pub, but thanks for coming with this afternoon. Don’t know if I actually said that.”

“I think I got the general impression when you kissed me,” Amélie replied dryly, “but you are welcome. When is the next match?”

“Three weeks, for Champions League, but there will be regular Premiership matches too. I need to get back to Winston on Sunday, but…depending on when I’m home next, would you like to go down to the Unicorn for another?”

“You did think I was good luck, _chérie._ ” Amélie considered things for a moment. “Perhaps I will ask Emily about Rugby, too. It would be fair.”

“She’s a bit more reserved, but she can get pretty…excited after a good match too,” Lena advised her, “just so you know.”

“…I will keep that in mind.”


	13. Marking the Pace

As she woke and dressed for the day, Amélie reflected on the fact that things did not actually seem any different, despite the rather significant shift in their lives that had occurred last night.

Did she feel like _she_ had changed?

No, she decided, not particularly.

Perhaps she would notice it more as time went on?

She certainly didn’t feel _bad_ , especially compared to the fear that had gripped her before. The ache she’d felt when she’d decided it was better to leave was gone. She was still… _concerned_ , if she was honest, for several reasons, but it did not feel particularly negative or overwhelming.

After all, Talon was still out there, and she still had not actually discussed what, if anything, Lena would tell the rest of Overwatch about their new…situation.

Talon would remain a problem for the time being, but the latter…that she could address. She made a mental note to speak to Lena about it while Emily was at work.

* * *

“This is _all_ wrong…where is all of this even coming from?”

Emily closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, but when she opened them again the spreadsheets she’d been reviewing still made no sense at all.  
  
Odd amounts of money were showing up in accounts where they had no business being, and what she’d assumed had just been a data entry error in the projections for next quarter _were_ accurate, but it relied on this all of these strange transactions, which no one seemed to be able to give her a straight answer on where the money was coming from or where it would end up. It simply moved from account to account with no clear pattern or purpose.

“Of course it’s something to do with the Americans,” she sighed to herself, “why do _all_ of the worst cockups seem to start there?”

She pulled up her email and sent an apology to her next scheduled meeting. She needed to get to the bottom of this mess, and if that meant dragging the raw numbers for the last five years out of every single person in the New York office, so be it.

If they were getting up to something dodgy, she’d need more than some questionable figures before she went up the chain. People got fired for things like that if they couldn’t back it up – and more importantly, if someone _was_ committing some kind of fraud and not just being sloppy with their accounts, that was the kind of business that sent people to _jail_. Better to have a full case ready to make sure everyone who was trying to do things on the up and up was covered.

She’d grab a cup of coffee and let the girls know she wouldn’t be able to meet them for lunch.

After that, it would be time to start digging.

* * *

Lena looked down at her phone and sighed. “Em says she’s tied up again. Told us not to worry about doing a delivery this time around.”

Amélie shrugged. “I suppose that is what life is like when you have a ‘real’ job.”

“Hah.” Looking up the way, she considered the options for lunch. “So, anything sound good to you? There’s the deli, tea shop’s got sandwiches, pub down the street has a patio…”

The sniper considered that. “I’d like to discuss something with you. Perhaps pick up from the deli and I can take us up from there?”

Lena grinned. “You know I _am_ capable of getting up on a rooftop on my own. Seems to me I’ve chased you around that way once or twice.”

“Mm,” Amélie’s lips quirked up in a little smile, “but you will have your hands full with the food, and I find my way much more entertaining.”

“Oh, and _I’m_ supposed to be the insatiable one,” Lena mock-grumbled as she turned down the street, “right, come on then.”

Amélie followed with a chuckle. “In fairness we have yet to _test_ the limits of our endurance, _chérie._ ”

Lena was reasonably sure her ears were burning red enough to be used as navigation beacons.

Once they reached a rooftop that gave them a good view of Emily’s building, Lena divvied up the drinks, sandwiches, and salads from the bag before following back around to the earlier topic. “So, what would you like to talk about?”

Amélie took a bite of her food, using the time she needed to chew and swallow to help organize her thoughts. “You are going to be returning to Overwatch in a few days. I thought we should…” She looked for quite the way to put things. “Settle how to handle the matter. About my new…status.”

“Oh.” Lena considered that for a moment. “Well, as far as what we get up to behind closed doors, that’s not any of their business. I mean, Winston knows Em, and he knows occasionally we’ve had…ah…”

Amélie gave a little smirk. “Paramours?”

“That’s a word,” Lena admitted, “yeah. Anyway…that part I have no intention of sharing unless there’s a reason I absolutely have to. But the part about you being in London to protect Emily…I think I’d like to let Winston know that, at least.”

“That is reasonable,” Amélie admitted, “and may be the simplest solution. Do you think he will wish to inform anyone else?”

“Not sure.” Lena took down about half her sandwich while she considered that. “I think if he does, it’ll be ’Reeha. With her mum and 76 off chasing Reaper around half the time, she’s basically been his right hand as far as missions and whatnot go. That’s intelligence she needs. Maybe Angie? But I can tell him you two…ah…would have some things to work out.”

“That is one way to put it.” Finishing her lunch, the Frenchwoman packed the trash back into the bag by long habit, ensuring there was nothing to point to her having been there aside from a few scuffs where her grappling hook had connected. “You haven’t asked me about any of my time with Talon. About what I have done. About how we fought.”

“At one point,” Lena admitted, “I was going to. Wanted to. But I thought about it for a bit, and, well…do you know one of the things I really, really hate?”

Amélie made a questioning noise, and Lena looked down at her accelerator, putting a hand over the device’s glowing face.

“So many people asking ‘what was it like’, when I got back from being…well. Everywhere and nowhere, really. So many people wanting to talk about what I’d experienced, things I’d seen…and once Winston got me set up with the accelerator, it was a whole new set of questions – but it all came back to people wanting me to go through some of the most painful, terrifying experiences of my life, over and over again, for their benefit.”

Lena sighed and shifted around so she could draw her knees up against her chest. “They meant well. In a lot of cases they were trying to help me. But it still…” She paused. “The wounds were still fresh. And even now it’s not something I like to dwell on very often. So…no, I haven’t asked you. If there are things you want to tell me, when you’re ready to talk about them? I’ll listen. We’ll talk. But that’s…” She trailed off, looking for the right words. “It should be something that _you_ decide.”

Amélie moved over, sitting next to the shorter woman and putting a hand on her knee. She didn’t reply in words.

At that moment, they didn’t need them.

* * *

When they met Emily as she left the office, the redhead was visibly fuming, walking right past where her lovers waited with a jerky nod of her head, leaving them to follow as she lead them towards the tube.

Lena winced. “That bad, luv?”

“I can’t decide,” Emily bit out, “if there are people being careless, people being _foolish_ , or people being actual criminals.” She turned her head enough to catch Amélie’s gaze. “Do you remember when I told you that you were not allowed to assassinate my coworkers?”

The blue skinned woman raised an eyebrow. “I do.”

“I’m reconsidering my position.”

Lena reached out to take the furious woman’s hand in hers. “Hey. Slow down, pet. Easy.”

Emily sighed and came to a stop, letting Lena pull her back into a hug, her arms coming up around her. “Sorry, sweet. It wasn’t a good day at all.” Amélie hesitated for a moment, then joined the embrace, slipping her arms around the redhead’s waist so they would pass under Lena’s, drawing a much happier noise from her. “That helps…”

“Tell you what,” Lena looked up, but didn’t quite disengage from the group hug, “Why don’t we get off at Leicester Square instead of taking the tube all the way home and hit 101 Jade?”

Emily considered that. “If the two of you don’t mind…I could use the treat.”

“I would not mind having their food again,” Amélie assured her, “as long as you do not think I will be too…distracting, I would not object to dining there.”

Lena nodded. “There we are, then.” They disengaged from the embrace and started making their way towards the tube at a bit more relaxed pace. “A nice dinner, have a glass of wine, we’ll go home and this time Amélie can rub _your_ feet.”

“Is that all am I to you, _chérie?_ Foot rubs and a comfortable seat?”

Lena smirked. “Sorry, who was talking about testing the limits of my endurance earlier?”

Emily shook her head, but she’d finally begun to smile again. “Terrible. You’re _both_ terrible. Come on, my girls, food.”

* * *

Emily sighed happily as Amélie rubbed her stockinged feet, just as Lena had proposed. 101 Jade hadn’t been busy at all, so they’d just asked for a table near the back and enjoyed themselves, and the two glasses of Riesling she’d had with the meal hadn’t hurt either.  “Mmm. You _are_ good at this.”

“I’m glad to know I have a few useful skills,” Amélie observed dryly, “perhaps I should look into getting a masseur’s license.”

“No,” Emily closed her eyes as she leaned back with her head in Lena’s lap, “I’m afraid we’re terribly selfish and will be keeping you to ourselves.”

“A shame,” the sniper sighed, “but I suppose the world will find a way to continue.”

“So,” Lena asked, “the thing you mentioned – it’s not a lot of extra money in each transaction, is it? I’d think that would have shown up earlier.”

“Not by themselves,” Emily admitted, “and I think that’s why no one really paid much attention before I was asked to handle this audit project, but when you start adding them up over and over…it’s enough that I’m concerned.”

“You’re worried it might have been deliberate?” Amélie’s fingers moved a bit higher, and Emily couldn’t resist the urge to wiggle her toes. “Is that sort of behavior common?”

“It’s really _not_ ,” Emily grumbled, “despite what you see on TV. and like I said, it _could_ be just…bad figures from someone, or the wrong accounts being connected for a transaction and then getting fixed down the line. I just can’t find _answers_ , when I try to ask who set up the accounts or why the projections are being adjusted.” She sighed. “It’ll probably turn out to be some intern from three years ago who got his numbers wrong or botched some programming, and the whole thing snowballed, but he’s been gone for ages. I have a feeling it’s just going to be frustrating to figure it out.”

“You’ll get it,” Lena assured as she carded her fingers through thick red hair, “you’re brilliant. You’ll get it.”

“I do appreciate your confidence, sweet.” Emily looked over to the television. “Care to watch the next Lord of the Rings movie, Amé?”

Golden eyes blinked in surprise, and blue fingers grew still.

Emily looked over with concern. “…was it not OK to call you that?”

Amélie looked over. “I…no, it is. I just didn’t…It’s been a long time since I was called that by…anyone.” She smiled, a few tears at the corner of her eyes. “I liked it then. I like it now.”

“I think that’s a plan, then.” Lena picked up the television remote. “How’s the movie sound, Amé?”

The taller woman’s blush deepened, and she resumed the foot rub. “I would like that.”

Lena grinned as she called the film up. “Careful, luv. Em will turn you into as big an addict as she is before long.”

Emily snorted. “It’s a healthy escape, and these are classics.”

“Right, right…”

* * *

Amélie watched the screen fade to the credits as Frodo and Sam followed Gollum towards Mordor. “I have to admit that there are a few other qualities you share with hobbits, _ma chérie._ ”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “I’m not entirely sure I want to hear this…”

That got a little smile. “All of them have been very brave, and very loyal to their friends. I think that describes you quite well.”

Lena blushed, ducking her head. “I…thank you. I didn’t expect that at all.”

Emily reached up to lightly stroke the brunette’s cheek.  “I think she’s got you down to a tee, sweet.”

“Oh, stop…”

“Too late,” Emily smiled, “you’re just going to have to deal with being a good person, my dear Baggins.”

“What.”

Emily winked. “Would you prefer we call you Sam?”

Lena glowered. “You know, I could push you right off my lap.”

“Oh, you love it.”

Amélie enjoyed the byplay before deciding to weigh in. “If you make Lena sleep on the couch, I suppose I could always join you tonight.”

Emily grinned. “You hear that, sweet? It’s a pretty tempting offer…”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “So now you want me to drop you on the floor, then? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“That’s not strictly required, no.”

Amélie stood, then offered Emily her hand. “I thought I might try to join you regardless.”

The redhead smiled. “If you like.”

Lena considered that. “Do you want me to take the guest bed, then? Get a chance to get used to sharing the bed with one of us before jumping into the deep end?”

“You will be leaving on Sunday. I…” Amélie trailed off with a blush. “I would like to try with you both, while we have the opportunity.”

Lena nodded as she stood to join them. “All right, then.” She winked as she passed them to head for the bedroom. “Have to warn you, though, Em’s a cuddler.”

Emily snorted as she took Amélie’s hand to bring her back to the bedroom. “That’s a compliment coming from the world’s greatest blanket thief.”

The bed was just big enough to be cozy with all three, rather than cramped. It took some maneuvering before everyone was completely comfortable, but the next day Emily was certain she hadn’t slept so well in ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to hear something awesome? [The amazing and talented fan VA Totalspiffage did a dub of both 'Hobbit' scenes!](http://redcap3.tumblr.com/post/157542421112/in-which-totalspiffage-makes-my-entire-goddamn) Go check it out and drop by her [Tumblr](http://totalspiffage.tumblr.com) to let her know how awesome that is!


	14. Mémoire de la Maison

Emily was confused, to say the least, when she woke up Sunday morning to find Amélie on the balcony with the toy rifle she’d given her, wearing the recon visor from her Widowmaker gear over her eyes as she leaned against the railing.

“What on earth are you doing?”

The sniper smiled, but didn’t look away from the plastic toy’s sights. “Breaking a rule.” The red glow from the lenses brightened, apparently in response to some unspoken cue, and a moment later there was a soft *pop* as the rifle spat a dart through the air.  

A moment later Amélie made a satisfied sort of noise that was halfway between a hum and a grunt, and the visor retracted up onto her forehead. Setting the toy down on the patio table, she reached up and slipped the visor off before gesturing over the railing. “A perfect shot.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, then stepped to where she could try to see what had happened.

Lena was at the curb, dressed in a relatively inconspicuous (for her) outfit waiting for a cab, a duffel slung over her shoulder with most of her gear. The only obvious kit she wore was her accelerator…which now had a rubber tipped dart stuck to the back fairing.

Emily considered that for a moment, keeping her voice carefully neutral. “You know she’s getting picked up by someone from Overwatch at the airport.”

“I do,” Amélie admitted, “and from there to Gibraltar.”

The redhead nodded. “She’s not likely to notice you tagged her until she’s halfway there – possibly not until someone else points out the dart.”

“That would be terrible,” Amélie deadpanned, “and I am sure I would never laugh at such a thing.”

Emily shook her head with a soft laugh. “She’s going to buy every dart gun she can get her hands on before she comes home.”

Picking the rifle up, Amélie stood with a sharp smile. “I am looking forward to it.”

The redhead raised an eyebrow. “Is this because she won the game of tag you two played last night?”

Amélie snorted as she opened the patio door. “I am sure I have no idea what you are implying.”

Emily sighed as she followed her back inside. “We’re going to the toy shop later, and you are going to teach me how to shoot straight with whatever I buy.”

* * *

As they walked through ToyTown, Emily couldn’t help but smile. Going shopping for a toy gun with one girlfriend, to defend themselves from a foam dart assault at the hands of the other? Ridiculous! Childish!

Wonderful, if she was honest. A far cry from worrying about Talon or kidnappers or how Lena was doing while she was out with Winston and the rest.

When she’d come here last, it had been a relatively simple task – she’d looked for something with a (toy) scope that was close to the same shape and size as Amélie’s rifle and called it a day.

(Admittedly, she’d ended up buying what turned out to be one of the most powerful ones on the market that shot darts the size of her index finger, but it had turned out to make her eventual girlfriend quite happy, so that had been a nice stroke of luck.)

“So,” she finally asked as the sniper carefully inspected the toy weaponry on offer, “what are we looking for, exactly?”

“Versatility,” Amélie answered, “since you will need to engage two very different targets. I would normally engage from range or with stealth. Lena fights with speed and attacks from different angles. She’ll move rapidly and use a volume of fire. Even if she doesn’t teleport, she’s very acrobatic.”

“That makes sense,” Emily looked at the various options, “so what’s better, with that in mind? Pistols, like Lena, or a rifle like yours?”

“A rifle, but not like mine.” Taking a box off of a shelf, Amélie presented it to her with a confident smile. “This weapon is marked for high accuracy, but it has a rotary magazine – one which can fire rapidly and does not require priming between shots. The shorter stock and bullpup grip will also make it easy for you to move.”

“You put quite a bit of thought into that.”

Amélie shrugged. “In this, I am the expert.”

Emily considered that, then nodded. “Well. Let’s have them ring this up, and then I suppose it’s time for target practice.”

When they returned to the flat, they settled in the living room, where Emily unpacked the toy and took a few moments to figure out how everything worked. “So…load the darts, pull this bit back to cock it, and then just pull the trigger?”

Amélie took a moment to examine the manual, then nodded. “It will rotate a new round into place when you pull the trigger, just like a revolver, priming the spring again. You simply aim and fire.”

“All right…” Emily lifted the toy gun to her shoulder, looking down the sights as she’d seen the sniper do when they’d offered her the toy she now carried occasionally in the house. “So how do I aim, then?”

“Do you see the raised posts by your eye?”

“Yes.”

“There is another at the end of the barrel. Line them up. It will not be perfect because this is a toy, but it will be adequate.”

“Do I need to close my other eye?”

“If you are having difficulty focusing, for now. But since you are not using a scope and are likely to be in close range, I would suggest not leaving a blind side.”

“…it occurs to me that the two of you may take this slightly more seriously than I do.”

Amélie shrugged. “You asked me to teach you to shoot.”

“I did,” Emily admitted, “so is this something like how you learned?”

The sniper paused. “I am trying to teach you with a better method than the ones Talon used.”

“Oh.” Emily looked up from the gun. “I’m sorry. That was kind of foolish of me to ask.”

“Perhaps. But you meant well.” Amélie smiled a bit sadly. “As I said before – those things happened. I take what I can find useful from them.”

“Right.” She took a breath, then went back to the gun. “Should I have a target?”

“The box will do. Aim for the logo along the top.”

“Got it.”

“Take a deep breath and hold it while you center the target. Do you see how the sights rise slightly?”

Emily couldn’t really speak, but she tried to give an affirmative shake of the barrel.

“Good. Now breathe out. The sights will fall.”

“I…yes, I notice it now.”

“You are not equipped to still your breathing as I do,” Amélie explained, “but by thinking about how you breathe, it is much the same. Remember the way your aim will change. Most will try to fire at the lowest point of their exhale, so they aim slightly high before they shoot.”

Emily took a few breaths, trying to feel out her own rhythm, then nodded. “I think I can see it now.”

“Before you put your finger on the trigger – remember that placing it there means that you are willing to shoot.”

She broke away from aiming to give a skeptical look. “It’s just a foam dart gun, lovely.”

“It’s a weapon,” Amélie corrected with complete sincerity, “You should treat it accordingly. Better to behave as if any gun, toy or not, should be given the same respect. It may not seem like it matters…but it could save your life – or someone else’s – one day.”

She considered that for a long moment. As much as she’d joked about the sniper taking it a bit too seriously, that answer had a certain weight of truth to it. “I think I understand a bit better now, when you put it that way. Thank you.”

“You are welcome. Now – show me what you’ve learned, _ma belle._ ”

Emily took up her aim again, putting the sights just slightly above the center of the colorful logo on the box. Breathed in as she put her finger on the trigger. Exhaled slowly as she pulled the trigger, the dart flying with a cheerful _pop!_ and smacking the box just where she’d aimed, sticking to the cardboard as the packaging toppled to the floor.

“ _Magnifique._ ”

* * *

After she’d practiced smacking targets with her new dart gun from as far as the back of the kitchen to the far end of the living room, Emily had put the gun away in favor of fixing dinner before she’d realized that they had another small problem to contend with.

“I forgot to place a grocery order this morning.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Mm. If I need more than a handful of things I usually try to put one in early so it can get delivered in the afternoon. With Lena leaving and going out, it slipped my mind. If I put it in now we won’t get a delivery before tomorrow, and we’re out of a few things.”

“We could order in.”

“For tonight,” Emily admitted, “but we’d be back at square one for breakfast.”

Amélie considered that, then conceded the point with a nod. “A trip to the grocery store, then?”

“I’m afraid so. Up for the horrors of a Tesco on Sunday evening? We can pick up some basics for tonight and tomorrow, and I’ll put a larger delivery order in online before we leave for work in the morning.”

That got a dramatic sigh. “It seems we have little choice. I will get my coat.”

It wasn’t as crowded as it could have been, which was good. As it was, she noticed Amélie tended to stick close to her when they moved through some of the busier aisles, treating their shopping cart as something like an icebreaker’s prow.

Still, could be worse. Emily certainly didn’t mind occasionally taking her hand as they walked.

She’d been considering the fresh fish on offer at the counter and hadn’t realized that she’d lost her girlfriend along the way until she’d turned to ask her a question and found only empty air behind her.

It took some backtracking, but eventually she found Amélie staring at a shelf of white wines, her fingers not quite touching a tall bottle with a parchment colored label.

“Amé? Are you all right?”

“No.” Amélie shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment to compose her thoughts, hand falling back to her side. “I…I saw this and remembered…”

Emily gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Take your time.”

“The vineyard:  _Meunier et fils_. That was part of my family. My name, before I married. They grow their grapes in Ribeauvillé. I have…had…a cousin, who inherited the land from his father. After I was ‘rescued’ from Talon before…” Her eyes flicked away, unable to speak for a moment. “He offered for me to visit. To stay and recover while Gérard returned to Overwatch. I had forgotten…”

Emily drew her close, keeping her voice hushed. “Come here, love…” They probably looked odd, standing in the middle of the aisle and holding each other as Amélie let tears fall, but she didn’t give a damn.

“I remember,” Amélie whispered, “and I wish I had never recalled. What family I might have left…how many thought me dead? How many _still_ think me dead? Would they ever accept…what I have become?”

“I wish I could give you an answer,” Emily replied quietly, “but I can say I think it’s better for you to remember, at least. To know where you’ve been before.”

Amélie shrugged wordlessly, and Emily just held her a little longer before they finally separated, Amélie finally reaching out to run her fingertips over the bottle. “Would you drink this with me?”

“Of course I would,” Emily assured her, “if that’s what you’d like.”

After they ate dinner and properly chilled the wine, they took the bottle out onto the patio.

Emily set the glasses on the table, then handed over the corkscrew. “I think you ought to do the honors.”

Amélie turned the corkscrew over in her hand for a moment, then nodded, cutting the foil seal before she extracted the cork with a soft _pop_.

Emily was quiet until both glasses had been filled, picking hers up by the stem and considering the pale gold liquid. “It smells wonderful. Shall we drink to anything?”

Amélie closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, inhaling the aroma. “The smell reminds me of when I was a little girl. We’d spend a few weeks visiting, then take the train back to Annecy.”

Emily smiled. “Perhaps we should drink to good memories, then.”

“I think,” Amélie raised her glass, holding it out across the table, “I would rather drink to home.”

Their glasses came together, and they drank to home, old and new.

* * *

Dishes had been washed, the wine drunk, and the rinsed and emptied bottle was turned upside down to dry as something of a keepsake and reminder.

Amélie considered how she felt, and what she needed, just as both of her new partners had encouraged. After a moment, she made her decision. “Emily?”

The redhead turned to look over, curiosity written on her face.  “Yes, darling?”

She felt a strange flutter in her stomach. Nerves. Uncertainty. “I do not wish to be alone tonight.”

Emily’s voice was gentle as she reached out to touch her hand. “Of course. You don’t have to ask my permission, you are welcome to join me for bed whenever you would like.”

She took the redhead’s hand and lightly brushed her lips over freckled knuckles. “I know. But...I would like more than that, tonight.”

“Oh.” Emily drew closer, her eyes alight. “I see.” Their lips met, slow and tender, and their arms wrapped around each other. “If that’s what you would like, tonight, I would love to.”

“You told me to set the pace,” Amélie admitted softly, “but I am not sure where to begin.”

“Then we’ll go slowly,” Emily reassured, “and I can lead.”


	15. Bonjour From The Other Side

Amélie used her phone so infrequently that she occasionally forgot she was carrying it.

That made it extremely surprising when the phone in her pocket began to buzz. Emily was in the kitchen, Lena most likely in Gibraltar or on a mission, so who…?

She fished the phone out and stared at the screen with a sharp intake of breath.

 

 **¡S O M B R A!**  
Hola, amiga.  
How’re your girlfriends?  
I’m in town. We should talk.

Bonjour, ombre.  
I am not so sure about that.

Oh, don’t be like that.  
Is that any way to talk to a friend?  
Believe it or not I am here to help you.

You’re alone?

Cross my heart and hope to die.

Café Travonna.  
20 minutes.

 

When she reached the kitchen, Emily was just pulling a package of meat from the refrigerator. “Everything all right?”

Amélie shook her head. “It is not.” She held up her phone. “Do you remember when I told you about Sombra?”

“Your friend, yes. The one who works with Talon? Who may or may not actually be on their side, based on what you and Lena said.” Emily looked at the phone, her eyes narrowing. “I take it she called?”

“Texted, and she is asking to speak to me. In person. Tonight. I’ve told her to meet me at Café Travonna.”

Emily put the meat back, then rinsed her hands in the kitchen sink. “I’ll get my coat.”

Crossing her arms, Amélie frowned. “I would prefer you stay here. This could be a trap.”

“It could, but it also might not be one. Regardless, darling, I am coming with you. If you’re right, I’m safer with you, because if it _is_ a trap they’d likely come here too, or if you’re wrong I’ll have a chance to meet this friend of yours.” Emily smiled. “Either way I’m getting my coat. Go put your grappling hook in a bag and you can bring it with.”

The logic…was sound, Amélie had to admit. “You have me trapped again.”

Emily turned, her smile becoming an impish grin. “You weren’t complaining the other night.”

She shook her head even as her cheeks betrayed her with a blush. “That was _not the same…_ ”

* * *

When they reached Travonna, Sombra was sitting on one of the coffee shop’s well loved couches in a hoodie and tights, a steaming cup of something sitting on the low table in front of her.

“I’ll get some drinks for us,” Emily suggested quietly, and you can give me a nod if it’s safe to come over.”

Amélie nodded, then schooled her expression into stillness, taking another long deep breath and then letting it go before she walked to Sombra’s table, settling down on the opposite couch. “ _Bonjour, ombre._ ”

“Hey, girl,” the hacker smiled to her, “been a while.”

She gave a little nod of acknowledgement. “I understand you’ve found ways to keep busy.”

Sombra grinned lazily as she leaned back against the cushion. “Oh, here and there. Take a few pieces of Talon connected to the bigger picture apart, make my way into a few new places, learn a few new things, get rid of a few problems.” Sombra looked over to the counter, where Emily was handing the cashier her card. “Funny how everyone connected to the orders to abduct Tracer’s girlfriend ended up kinda dead in the middle of that.”

“What an interesting coincidence,” Amélie observed, “and what do I owe you for that…assistance?”

Sombra actually looked _hurt_ , which surprised her. “I didn’t do it because I expected you to owe me for this, Ami. I did it because nobody touches _mi familia_.”

The sniper’s brows knit. “…I’m your family?”

“Closest I’ve got,” Sombra admitted, looking down at her coffee for a moment before she picked up the cup and took a sip to give herself a moment, “I have a lot of ‘friends’. But you…you’re different. When I call you my friend it’s because you really _are_ , not because I’ve got a hold over you. So…yeah. When Talon decided to go after your girls? That crossed a line.”

Amélie was unexpectedly touched by that admission, the mask she’d tried to keep in place slipping away as she blushed. “They weren’t really my girls, then, but…thank you, Sombra. I don’t really know what to say.”

“Thanks is a good start,” Sombra smirked, getting back to something more like her usual attitude, “so _have_ you three admitted you’re dating yet? Or did you just graduate from creepy stalker to kinda creepy roommate?”

“As it happens,” Emily answered for her as she sat down, a cup of coffee in each hand, “we’ve been official for just under a month.”

Amélie gave the redhead an exasperated look as she took her cup. “I thought you were waiting for me to let you know it wasn’t a trap.”

“I saw the way she looked while you talked to her,” Emily countered as she handed over a cup, “and it wasn’t a trap.”

“Ooo,” Sombra grinned, “I like her already. I mean, you’re pretty sexy with the whole red hair and accent thing –”

“Thank you.”

The hacker sketched a salute. “– but yeah, listen to _you_. You just keep giving as good as you get.”

Emily smiled over her coffee. “I do try. I’m Emily, by the way.”

“I know,” Sombra admitted with a grin, “but it’s nice to meet you for real.”

Amélie frowned thoughtfully. “I never told you about her. I knew you figured out that I was going to London to follow Lena –”

“Ohhh, so _bombilla_ is _Lena_ now, huh?”

“It would be rather silly,” Emily observed dryly, “to call her ‘Tracer’ when we’re sitting on the couch.”

“But I never told you that Lena had a girlfriend,” Amélie soldiered on despite the commentary, “so how did you know?”

Sombra grinned. “Well. This is a city covered in cameras, for one.” She flicked her fingers through the air and a series of purple hexagons appeared above her hand. “For another…” She snapped her fingers and a series of selfies appeared – some taken by Lena, some by Emily, at various locations and positions. Out at the pub. An afternoon at the park. Christmas. Birthdays. She spun them through the air, then compacted them between her hands and dismissed them with a snap of her wrist towards where Emily sat.

“You guys have done a good job of staying off social media since the Recall, but you were out there before – and even if you try to scrub, the Internet never forgets.”

Amélie stared in disbelief. “You knew I was following Tracer, and did not think to mention this small detail?”

“ _No one can hide from my sight_ ,” Sombra imitated with a smile, and Emily couldn’t suppress a soft laugh, “so when you came back, I knew you’d figured it out. You kept going to keep an eye on them, so it obviously wasn’t a big deal.”

“Now, with that said,” Emily observed, “did you happen to inform anyone else? Because Reaper tried to hold me over Lena’s head not so long ago, and I’d rather prefer he never try that again.”

Sombra shook her head. “No, Talon figured that one out on their own, and they gave him a briefing on the ‘operation’ after Ami bailed.”

“I would appreciate it,” Amélie remarked quietly, “if you would let him know he is welcome to come after me, and I am aware Lena can defend herself, but that Emily is off limits.”

That was dismissed with another wave. “Not a problem. He might have bluffed a little, but he knew you didn’t disappear because you were going to let Talon hurt either of them.” She took another drink before finishing that thought. “Besides – Gabi wants his revenge, but Oxton wasn’t really one of his targets. We took advantage of the chaos you left inside of Talon to take care of a few of those along the way, so…let’s say he owes you one.”

The sniper considered that for a moment, taking a drink of her own coffee while she took that on board. “Very well. So…you said you were here to help me?” She gave a sharp little smile. “Surely it is not with dating advice.”

Sombra rolled her eyes. “I think you’ve got that covered.” Then, she looked over to where Emily had been observing them, meeting the redhead’s eyes. “I’m actually here for you, _chica._ ”

“Me?” Emily’s eyebrows raised with surprise. “What could I have to do with anything?”

“You’ve been digging into someone else’s business, and they’re not happy.” Sombra grinned. “Another reason I like you.”

“What, the odd transactions we’ve been auditing?” Emily sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing. “I haven’t _gotten_ anywhere, I’ve just been bringing more attention to the fact that they exist.”

“I don’t understand,” Amélie admitted, “why would _you_ have taken notice of that, _ombre?_ _"_

Sombra tilted her head. “You don’t _know?"_

“Obviously not.”

Sombra sighed, putting her hand to her forehead as she closed her eyes and shook her head for a moment. “ _Araña_ , your girl works for _Tyne and Weir_.”

“…should I know that name?” Amélie’s frown deepened. Obviously Sombra thought it was important, but it didn’t have any significance for her.

“We’re a multinational accounting and professional services firm,” Emily supplied, “one of the larger ones. But I still don’t see what it has to do with anything. We handle accounts for…well. Thousands of clients and corporations around the world, really. I used to just work in our EMEA operations, but my last promotion moved me into the Assurance and Audit team for North American accounts as well. Most of my job is just making sure everyone’s projections and numbers match what the raw data indicates. It interests _me_ , but it bores most people to death.”

“Thousands of clients,” Sombra confirmed, “including some clients who like to use their cleaner companies to help move around some dirty money.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed, and suddenly her entire bearing shifted, her eyes sharpening with interest as she leaned forward. “The rounding errors and phantom transactions – they aren’t errors at all, then. And you can prove this?”

“I can give you a few suggestions on places to look,” Sombra noted, “but I’m guessing ‘an internationally wanted hacker gave me some pointers’ isn’t going to fly with your bosses.”

“Hardly,” Emily snorted, “but…I’d kept assuming this was relatively benign, at the heart of it all. Now…I was already documenting everything offline. I’ll make some paper copies, just to be safe.”

“Smart.” Sombra looked over to where Amélie was staring at both of them in something like disbelief. “I have to say, you’ve got excellent taste. Your other girl’s a little hyper for me, but they’re both sharp.” Her grin turned wicked. “And I’m assuming they’re pretty good in bed.”

Amélie snorted derisively as she tossed her head.

“That’s not the sort of question a gentleman answers,” Emily noted dryly, “but I am comfortable saying _I_ haven’t received many complaints. As for Lena…she knows how to slow down and pay attention when it matters.”

Sombra laughed, then raised her cup to tap it against Emily’s. “ _You_ are my new favorite. We should talk more.”

Emily chuckled. “Well, if you’re going to give me a few hints about where to dig a little deeper, I suppose you already have my email – and my mobile.”

“Oh,” Sombra noted with great satisfaction, “I can _always_ get in touch with a friend when I need to.”

Amélie’s eyes narrowed. “And if these ‘unhappy’ people who Emily will be exposing become…more than unhappy?”

“Like I said,” Sombra promised, “nobody touches my family. If I hear anything, you’ll know.”

“Well, that’s settled, then.” Emily looked over. “Would you care to get dinner with us? We could have you over to the flat if you like.”

“Naah, thanks, though.” Sombra grinned as she stood. “I still have a few things to do while I’m in town. Besides – you’d probably just make me watch those boring sword and wizard movies. Give me a good Sci–Fi any day. Or a _bad_ one – those can be even more fun.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “I _lived_ through a robot uprising. I’ve no desire to watch one to relax.”

Amélie stood, suddenly not quite sure what to do next. She settled for trying a smile, and it fit. “I appreciate the warning, _ombre._ It…was good to see you.”

The hacker surprised her with a hug. “You too, _amiga._ Look after yourself.”

After a heartbeat, she hugged her friend back.

* * *

They picked up takeaway sushi on their way back to the flat, eating in the living room as Emily put on ‘a boring Wizard movie’ in honor of Sombra.

Amélie had to admit that the Potter movies were cute, but she didn’t find them quite as inspiring as the Tolkien ones. Still, apparently both Emily and Lena enjoyed them, and she didn’t really _object_.

(She was not surprised _at all_ to find out Lena had a Gryffindor scarf in her closet, but Emily’s small collection of Slytherin merchandise _including robes and a wand_ had been a fascinating discovery.)

They’d just watched the Marauder’s Map tell off Professor Snape when Emily’s phone began to ring.

She pulled it out of her pocket, then immediately turned the sound from the television off before answering and turning on the speaker. Amélie’s eyes went to the name on the phone's display as she placed it on the coffee table: **_WINSTON_ **

“Hello, Winston,” Emily greeted the scientist as the line connected, “is everything all right?”

The gorilla’s deep voice filled the room, and Amélie tensed a bit despite herself. “Good…it is evening there, isn’t it?”

Emily noticed the tension, and took her hand with a reassuring smile. “Yes, it’s evening here.”

Winston chuckled softly. “Sorry – we’ve been bouncing around several time zones the last few days. Anyway – Lena said she got in trouble for not letting you know she was on the way home, last time, and she wanted me to let you know she should be back in London tomorrow morning.”

Emily laughed, and Amélie smiled, letting herself relax a bit. “I’ll be glad to see her home, then.”

Winston laughed with her for a moment, but an edge of nervousness crept into his voice. “Hah. And…ah…if I can ask, how is your…ah…house guest?”

“She is listening,” Amélie answered dryly, “…and she appreciates knowing Lena is coming home, too.”

“Oh. Ah. I see.” Winston was clearly thrown off, but Emily just stuck out her tongue before swatting her hand lightly.

“She’s fine too, Winston. Can you tell me when Lena will be leaving again, or will she bring the bad news?”

“Actually,” Winston answered, recovering from his stumble, “she’ll probably be able to stay near home for a few weeks at least – maybe longer. We’ve had some good success recently and we’re getting some extra help lately from some of the newer members. I’d rather give her a chance to recharge her batteries while they take on some of the load.”

Emily nodded with a mix of relief and excitement in her eyes. “Thank you. I know she won’t admit she needs that, now and again, but…”

“I know,” Winston admitted, “yes.” There was a pause. “Still, it probably helps that there are two of you against one, now.”

Emily gave a wicked grin, while Amélie just blinked in surprise at the fact that the gorilla had just made a _joke_.

“Something like that,” Emily agreed, “anything else for tonight?”

“Not right now,” Winston responded after a moment’s thought, “though…ah…Amélie?”

The sniper straightened, giving the phone a careful look. “Yes?”

“Lena explained to me why you will probably not feel comfortable visiting Gibraltar any time soon…but it’s good to hear that you found your way out of Talon.”

She blinked with surprise, both for the kind words and the tears that unexpectedly came to her eyes. “I…thank you, Winston.”

By the sound of his voice, she thought that perhaps the scientist was smiling. “You’re very welcome. Good night, ladies.”

Emily smiled. “Cheers, Winston. Talk to you soon.”

Amélie stared at the phone as the connection was closed, still just on the verge of tears, but not entirely sure why.

Emily drew her into a gentle embrace, one hand lightly stroking her back. “It’s ok to cry, you know.”

She shook her head even as the tears slowly began to flow. “I don’t…I’m not even sure why…”

“Not so long ago,” Emily offered, “you didn’t have much of anyone in your corner. Now…you found some ties to your family. You found that you had some friends you didn’t expect…and maybe a bit of forgiveness, too. That’s quite a lot to take in.”

Amélie considered that, then nodded. “That is all true…” Shifting, she reached up to caress the redhead’s cheek. “And I found you…both of you.”

Emily turned her head, kissing the cool skin of her lover’s palm. “You did indeed, lovely.”

Golden eyes grew thoughtful. “You…who is in your corner, Emily?”

The redhead smiled. “Aside from you? Lena, obviously, and I know Winston fairly well. I have a few friends at the office, and others here and there, but I do keep a bit of a low profile ever since PETRAS.”

Amélie considered that. “You didn’t wish to be used against Lena. I understand that. But…what about _your_ family? You’ve never spoken of them.”

Pain flashed through Emily’s eyes, and she looked away. “I don’t suppose we could talk about anything else?”

Amélie didn’t really consider herself terribly good at providing comfort, but she reached out to draw her lover to her, rubbing a hand over her back as Emily folded in against her.

Emily just let herself be held for a while, then finally explained in a quiet, tired voice. “Do you remember when I told you once that I had been in a relationship with an omnic?”

“I do.”

“My parents…didn’t really have any issue when I dated girls. Or boys, for that matter. But you have to understand that for some here…” Emily considered her words carefully, her lover just making a soft, encouraging noise. “Both of my parents lost friends and family during the Crisis. Nearly everyone in their generation did. Some did a better job of letting go of their anger than others.”

“Ah.” Amélie squeezed just a little tighter, and Emily nodded. It wasn’t hard to find Anti–Omnic graffiti, even in the Row, which was probably one of the most tolerant neighborhoods in London thanks to the Underground.

“I was stupid, and I let a friend tag us in some pictures while we were out for dinner and a movie. My phone started exploding a few hours later. First texts, then calls. Things…were said that would have been difficult to take back. I’d already moved out of their home to go to Uni. My father made it clear I wouldn’t be welcome there any longer.”

“How long…?”

“Seven years, now.”

Amélie looked down at the tattoo that covered her forearm. “…a bad year for both of us.”

Emily huffed a humorless laugh, obviously trying to pull herself out of her black mood. “Quite. Lena’s accident wasn’t long after, either. Didn’t know her then, but…well.”

They held each other quietly for a while before Amélie gently brushed her lips against Emily’s forehead. “You should come to bed with me.”

The redhead raised an eyebrow. “A little early for turning in, especially for a Friday evening.”

Amélie’s hands moved in a much different sort of caress. “I didn’t say anything about sleeping.”

That got a much more genuine laugh. “You’re doing a wonderful job of getting over your assertiveness problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record Amélie was sorted into Ravenclaw and Emily was _incredibly smug_ about having called it.


	16. Déjà Vécu

Lena felt a bit of _déjà vu_ coming up the stairs to her flat. She’d slept through the flight home from Numbani this time, and she _knew_ that the former Widowmaker was going to be there, but still. Early morning landing, catch a cab home, try not to wake anyone as she opened the door…

And today, be greeted not by the unexpected presence of a sniper in the shower, but the sounds of angry French and the smell of something burning coming from the kitchen.

“ _Putain de merde!_ ”

Lena couldn’t help it. Dropping her bag on the couch, she was pulled to the kitchen like filings to a magnet, and as soon as she knew her girlfriend would hear, she had to ask: “Problem?”

She’d expected a venomous stare from Amélie – honestly had been looking forward to it a little, just for old time’s sake – but what she got was an almost panicked, desperate look. “ _Yes!_ ”

She’d yanked a pan off the burner, and as Lena wafted a bit of smoke away she could see a few pieces of bacon sitting there, their edges blackened and burnt. “Ahh. Looks like the pan got a little too hot. That’s not so bad – grab the spatula, we’ll pull them out and you can try again.”

That got a frustrated sigh, but the Frenchwoman nodded as she put the burnt meat onto a paper towel. Examining them carefully, Lena noticed the bottoms were charcoal while the top was still fairly pink. “Did you turn these at all?”

“I was trying to mix the crepe batter,” Amélie admitted, “I lost track until they began to smoke.”

Lena smiled. “It’s all right. Did you decide to make breakfast because I was coming home?”

“Winston called last night,” the taller woman confirmed, “so I thought it would be nice for you. Better than last time. But…” She gestured to the ruins of the bacon with a sigh.

“Aw. Honestly it’s still really sweet of you,” Lena reassured, and pushed herself up on tiptoes for a quick kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek before she turned back to the stove. “Cor, why do you both have to be so tall?”

That got a smile out of Amélie at least. “Perhaps Emily and I should ask why you have to be so short, _chérie.”_

Lena huffed, but before she could offer a reply, the redhead appeared. “I tend to think of you both as the perfect sizes. After all, I fit quite nicely between you.” As if to demonstrate, she placed a kiss on each woman’s cheek before looking at the stove. “Did something burn?”

Amélie nodded. “I am sorry. I feel as if I wasted the food.”

“No harm done,” Emily assured her, “are you trying again?”

“I was about to.”

“Good,” she encouraged, “that’s how you learn.”

While Amélie put more bacon on, Emily gave Lena a proper hug. “Welcome back. How was your flight home?”

“Slept, mostly.” Lena admitted before she stepped out of the embrace. “Amé? You need any help?”

Amélie considered the pan, then shook her head. “I think I have this, now. I will finish the bacon, then start the crepes.”

“Good plan,” Lena agreed, “so I think I’m gonna go change.” She gave Emily a wink. “Care to give me a hand?”

Emily considered that thoughtfully. “Mmm. If you’re sure about not needing help in here…”

“Go on,” Amélie assured her, “I will manage.”

“So,” Lena noted as she shucked her jacket and ‘working’ gear, “Amé seems to be doing pretty well.”

Emily nodded from where she lay on the bed, enjoying the show. “She’s getting better at doing things just because she feels like it, rather than needing a mission or a justification.”

Lena paused to pull her sports bra off, then grinned back over her shoulder. “Like making us breakfast?”

“Like making us breakfast,” Emily agreed with a smile, “she didn’t mention a word of that to me before we fell asleep last night.”

Lena nodded, then paused as something occurred to her. “How’s she been sleeping?”

“Decently, I think. We haven’t shared a bed every night, but she hasn’t woken me up with a nightmare since…hm. Week after you went out, I think.” Emily’s smile turned a bit wicked. “Aside from that, well, you’ll just have to try for yourself and we can compare notes later.”

Lena’s eyes widened. “You… _oooo_. Sure I can’t hear a few details?”

Emily sat up, running her hand over the sheet. “Are you asking me to kiss and tell, sweet?”

Joining her on the bed, Lena considered that. “Well…I suppose that _would_ be pretty rude.”

Emily leaned in, her arm slipping around the shorter woman’s waist. “It really would. But I think she’d feel comfortable with me letting you know the blue goes _all the way down_.”

That got them both giggling even as Lena paid for the information with a kiss, as promised. “Shameless,” she murmured as they drew closer, “you’re just _shameless_ , pet.”

“Mmhmm,” Emily confirmed, “love you.”

“Love you too,” Lena sighed happily, then had better things to do with her mouth for a little while.

When they emerged for breakfast, Amélie had put plates out for them with a slice from her second attempt at bacon, a somewhat ragged but respectable looking crepe, and slices of strawberry and banana placed over the folded pancake.

“I appreciate,” she informed them with a little smirk as they arrived in the living room, “that you gave me a little time to finish.”

Lena couldn’t help her blush – really, with the accent and her _legs_ and her _eyes_ that just wasn’t _fair_ – but Emily covered for it nicely, settling down on the couch and picking up her plate. “Oh, it was our pleasure, I assure you.”

That got a laugh from their girlfriend, and Lena couldn’t help but join in. “This looks great, by the way.”

“ _Merci._ ”

Lena went for the bacon first, which was fairly crispy but had come out reasonably well, while Emily went for the crepe…and gave it a decidedly odd look as she chewed.

“Amé? Which container did you get the sugar from?”

“The blue ceramic containers – the third one in.”

Emily gave a soft ‘ahhh’, then looked at her sympathetically. “That was the salt.”

“I…oh. I see.” Amélie poked at her own pancake, then took an experimental bite. “It…is not _inedible_.”

“That’s true,” Emily admitted with a smile, “and the fruit helps.”

The Frenchwoman sighed as she poked at another piece of the crepe with her fork. “Between that mistake and the burnt bacon, I think I am beginning to understand why I did not cook often, before.”

“Ah, this isn’t so bad,” Lena observed, “trust me, I’ve done much worse.” She took a bite of the crepe and it _was_ salty, but Em was right that the fruit helped cut it a little bit. “Besides, it’s the thought that counts.”

“It was a nice surprise,” Emily agreed, “and you’re welcome to try again, you know. Just let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“Speaking of surprises,” Amélie looked over to the redhead, “did you let her know about our…unexpected encounter?”

Lena blinked. “…no? What d’you mean?”

Emily considered how to explain it for a moment. “Well. Not too long before Winston let us know you were on the way home, Amé got a text from an…old friend, I suppose you could say.”

“Sombra,” Amélie filled in, “asking to meet for coffee.”

“ _What._ ” Lena straightened up on the couch, eyes widening.

Emily held up a hand. “Believe it or not, she was actually quite nice. Well – she was a raging smartass, if I’m honest, but she wasn’t there to cause trouble.”

Lena had to take a moment to process that. “So…what was she there for, then?”

“Several things,” Amélie admitted, “but the most important was to let Emily know that the audit she has been working on is apparently connected to something larger.”

Lena looked over with a raised eyebrow, and Emily nodded. “Apparently those odd transactions _aren’t_ accidents. I can’t just take her word for it, but…she’s going to be providing me with a few pieces of information so I can dig a little deeper – and if it turns out to be true, well…”

“Huh.” Lena considered that. “Did she happen to say _what_ or _who_ was involved with this? I mean, we were already on the lookout for Talon…”

“No,” Amélie shook her head with a frown, “she did not. But there has been no signs of anyone tracking her, Talon or not.”

“The accounts are mostly American,” Emily pointed out, “and there’s no shortage of perfectly mundane crime there. I don’t think we should panic just yet.”

“Mm. I suppose that’s true,” Lena admitted, “but if anything starts to feel off…”

“You’ll know,” Emily promised, “both of you.”

* * *

As it turned out, Lena had _not_ gotten her own toy guns yet. That occasioned another trip to the toy shop on Saturday afternoon, particularly after Emily demonstrated her increasing skill with her new rifle.

“I’m gonna need two,” Lena mused, “seeing as I’m outnumbered and all.”

“Oh, is that how it works?” Emily grinned as she watched Lena walk through the aisle of dart guns.

“Absolutely,” Lena confirmed, “so I guess I’ll need motorized ones.”

Amélie rolled her eyes. “So you can spray them across the room twice as quickly?”

“Oi! I shoot just fine, thank you.”

“I suppose,” the former Widowmaker conceded, “that quantity has a quality of its own.”

Emily sighed. “Keep this up and I’m sending you two out for a run when we get home, so you can get it out of your systems without breaking any furniture.”

Lena turned from where she’d been considering one of the brightly colored weapons. “You know, that does have a certain appeal…”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. “Are you so eager to get tossed across another rooftop, _ma coeur?_ ”

Lena smirked. “I seem to recall winning the last round. Some poor loser might have even shot me with one of their sucker darts afterwards.” She produced said dart from her pocket with a smirk. “Yours, I believe?”

Emily smiled at the byplay as Amélie wordlessly took the dart back, tucking it into her bag with exaggerated dignity. “I suppose if I was playing the referee, that would be a good reason for Lena to be the one chasing you to start…”

* * *

There was something a little different about this afternoon’s ‘run’. Perhaps because of the time Lena had spent away, if Amélie had to put it into words. She’d spent her time running operations with Overwatch over the last few weeks honing her already razor sharp edge, and it showed in her relentless pursuit.

Amélie had been able to stay ahead of her, just, but Lena had tagged her with two good body blows during their last exchange that she was pretty sure would leave impressive bruises.

She swung through the air as her grapple retracted at the zenith of her leap, landing at the peak of an angled rooftop and letting herself slide, building momentum before she leapt into the air again, planning to grapple over the adjacent building and land on the balcony beyond.

That plan changed with a burst of displacing air, and Lena’s arms wrapping around her waist in a flying tackle.

Lena’s delighted cry of _“GOT YOU!”_ mixed with her grunt as the breath was knocked out of her, and they tumbled to the rooftop together, landing in a tangle of limbs.

“Ok,” Lena groaned as she sat up, “maybe I could have timed that a little better.”

“Perhaps a bit closer to the rooftop next time,” Amélie agreed once she had her breath back, “or once at least one of us is actually on solid footing.”

“Duly noted.” Lena grinned as she stood, offering a hand. “Up for more?”

Amélie took her hand, then smirked, shifting her grip and yanking the shorter woman off her feet, pulling her down and into a tumbling somersault.

Lena ended up trapped beneath her, and she leaned in to take advantage of the position with a teasing kiss before she shifted to a kneeling stance, one knee planted against the bottom of the accelerator. “Perhaps.”

That got a fierce grin in return. “Well, if _that’s_ how it’s going to be…”

The sensation of Lena teleporting from beneath her was odd, to say the least. Amélie let her knee fall to the ground in the sudden absence of a body to support her weight, then lunged forward, getting her feet under her before Lena could capitalize on the opening she’d created.

She suddenly realized that Lena had teleported into her path, not behind or above as she’d expected, when the younger woman sprang up from behind a chimney, whipping her hand around for a strike that Amélie was just barely fast enough to dodge, then following through with a rising knee that took her in the stomach, folding her up with a grunt.

Amélie let herself fall backwards, rolling back to her feet, but Lena was on top of her before she could fully set herself, knocking her to the ground, the shorter woman straddling her waist, her eyes bright and chest heaving beneath the accelerator. Amélie’s heart was hammering against her ribs, feeling the warmth spreading through her as Lena bent down.

“I don’t think we’re actually fighting anymore,” Lena murmured, “are we…?”

“No…” Amélie breathed, and then she was having the breath taken from her for the second time that afternoon.

Lena’s hands wrapped around to cradle her head and neck as they kissed, Amélie’s hands finding purchase on the rigging of the accelerator’s harness.

“There’s easier ways to have me out for a snog,” Lena observed as she broke the kiss, one hand coming up to push her goggles up onto her forehead, “didn’t _have_ to run all over town.”

She _hadn’t_ actually planned on things going in this direction, but Amélie wasn’t complaining. With how their relationship had began…there was something rather fitting about this. “But where is the fun in that, _chérie?”_

Lena gave a little growl in the back of her throat and wrapped her hand around the base of the sniper’s ponytail, sharply yanking it back as Amélie gasped in pleased surprise.

That got a satisfied laugh before Lena started to kiss her way up her lover’s exposed neck. “Well, there’s _that_ theory confirmed, then…”

Amélie really had no room to object.

* * *

Emily was working on dinner when her phone began to cheerfully blare a boisterous horn riff and a man’s enthusiastic voice.

_Upside, inside out!_

_She's Livin' La Vida Loca!_  
_She'll push and pull you down_  
_Livin' La Vida Loca!_  
  
_Her lips are devil red_  
_And her skin's the color mocha_  
_She will wear you out_

 _Livin' La Vida Loca!_  
_Livin' La Vida Loca!_  
_She's livin' La Vida Loca!_

Fishing it from her pocket with a perplexed expression – she’d never picked a ringtone like that for anyone, and for that matter her phone was set to vibrate – things became a bit clearer to her when she read the caller ID:

**~S O M B R A~**

“Hello, Sombra.”

_–Hey, chica. How’re you doing?_

“Oh, not so bad – just working on dinner while waiting for the girls to get home from working off a little bit of excess energy.”

The hacker laughed, and Emily couldn’t help but raise her eyebrow.

“…I take it you know something I don’t.”

– _Oh, honey, I_ always _know something other people don’t. But in this case…well…put me on speaker._

Emily did as she asked, and a moment later her phone shifted to her video app of its own accord, which showed…a rooftop?

A rooftop being filmed by someone with a shaky camera – maybe another phone, who kept murmuring “holy shit” under his breath as he zoomed in…on Lena and Amélie fighting?

“Hm. Looks like we have some concerned neighbors.”

Sombra chuckled. _That’s one word for it._

The reason for her sarcasm became a bit clearer as the zoom focused and it became clear that her girls were quite intensely engaged with each other, but _fighting_ was not the accurate word to describe their activity.

“Oh, dear. I hope you’re calling to tell me that _isn’t_ trending worldwide right now?”

_–All taken care of. His video disappeared before it even published. Along with a few others. One’s actually pretty slickly cut together – I think you’ve got a pretty good cinematographer in your neighborhood._

Emily smirked. “I don’t suppose you’d send me a copy of that one?”

– _Oh, I think that can be arranged. Anyway – just letting you know. Tell Ami to make sure they’re under an awning or something, next time._

Emily snorted. “Yes, well, I imagine that I’ll have a conversation about taking better precautions with with them later. But…while I have you, I wanted to talk to you about something between the two of us.”

_–About the money? I gave you a hint already, canelo._

“No,” Emily shook her head, “that’s not it. I wanted…” She considered what to say for a moment. “I wanted to thank you. Amélie hasn’t talked too much about her time inside Talon, but it wasn’t hard for me to figure out that you were one of the only people who treated her like a human being.”

The line went quiet for a moment.

– _I…yeah, I guess you could say that. I went into Talon to get a few different things. I didn’t really expect to find her. Or at least to find… I don’t know quite how to say it – to find that that she was still_ there _, under everything. So I tried to make sure Talon didn’t stomp her out. Even if she didn’t always recognize it._

“I’m grateful. Lena, too. She hasn’t gotten to know her quite as well, yet, but we can both see…” Emily smiled as she thought of several different moments they’d shared. “We can see _her._ ”

_–I noticed. Don’t tell Ami I said this, but…you two are good for her. I can tell. Anyway…I’m going to go before this gets too sappy. I have a few things to take care of here._

Emily chuckled. “I suppose you do. Well – don’t be a stranger, all right?”

_–Oh, you’ll see me around, amiga._

There was a soft beep as the line went dead, followed by her phone cheerfully declaring “Boop!” as a message arrived with an attached video.

Emily considered her phone. “Tempting…but the chicken isn’t going to roast itself.”

Still, she _would_ have an hour to kill once it went into the oven…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Widowmaker’s ringtone for Sombra is set to “Frio” (the bit that goes ME CALIENTAS CUANDO SIENTO FRIO) and Lena’s is set to “Shake your Bon–bon” (Shake it my way, oh shake your bon-bon, shake your bon-bon, shake your bon-bon!)
> 
> They try to change them.
> 
> They cannot.


	17. Special Circumstance

“Where are we going?”

Lena giggled from behind the wheel of her Mini, but didn’t really answer. Amélie glared at her from the back seat – she _did_ trust her lovers, but she still was a bit wary of not knowing what was going on.

Emily turned in her seat with a smile. “It’s a surprise for you – but I think you will like it.”

The sniper raised an eyebrow, but didn’t get any more explanations until Lena pulled into a parking spot next to an alleyway, which did not do anything to reduce her confusion.

“Trust us,” Emily assured her, “it’ll make sense in a few minutes.”

As they got out of the car, Lena stopped to grab something from the boot while Emily made her way into the alley, and Amélie took note of the gym bag that Lena had slung over her shoulder as she caught up to them.

Lena caught her looking and gestured back towards the alleyway. “No peeking!”

Amélie scoffed as she turned back around. “Is that what I was doing?”

“Obviously,” Lena confirmed, “and this is a surprise. So, no peeking."

Looking ahead, she could see Emily’s shoulders shaking in a silent laugh, then turned to look back over her shoulder again. “Oh, I _peeked_ again.”

Lena stuck out her tongue in reply, but before they got much further Emily had come to a stop. “Peeking or not, we’re here.”

Amélie didn’t really understand what was so special – they’d ended up standing next to a plain looking door set into the building that formed this side of the alleyway, with a little brass plaque set into the brickwork next to it that read ' _Academy Mews'_   – her brows knitting in confusion. “I still don’t understand.”

Emily gave her the little smile that Amélie had learned meant that the redhead was up to something before pulling the door open. “Why don’t you go inside?”

Once again the instincts that had been instilled by nearly a decade in the service of Talon were screaming _TRAP_ to her, but the last few months had been a reminder that not everyone acted in such ways. Emily and Lena weren’t doing this to hurt her. If it was a trap…well, perhaps it might be a pleasant one.

Amélie took a deep breath in through her nose, held it a long moment, and then let it out again before she stepped through the door. There was a short foyer, and then her eyes widened as she found herself in a pleasant looking reception area, with pictures of dancers in different costumes performing in various styles along the walls.

A young looking blonde woman sat at a desk near the far end in a turtleneck and slacks, standing as Amélie walked towards her, the sound of footsteps telling her that Emily and Lena weren’t far behind. “Good afternoon, ladies! Welcome to Academy Mews.”

“Good afternoon,” Emily came around with a smile, producing a piece of paper, “I believe we have a reservation.”

“Ah! Yes, please follow me.” The girl took them to a stairwell, up two floors, then lead them into a hallway before she stopped at a door with a large number 5 painted on it. “There’s a changing room and lockers at the end of the hall, and your reservation is for two hours. If you’d like more time or if you need anything, please let me know and I’ll be happy to help!”

Changing rooms? Lockers? Some part of her knew what this place must be, but would they truly have arranged this for her?

Emily and Lena were both smiling expectantly, Lena rocking back and forth a bit on the balls of her feet, Emily with that slightly raised eyebrow she did so well. Another deep breath, and Amélie pushed the door inward, her breath catching in sudden realization as she looked inside.

“You told me,” Emily explained softly, “how much you loved to dance.”

Amélie nodded wordlessly as she stepped into the dance studio, watching her reflection in the mirrors that lined the room. Tears welled in her eyes as she stepped towards the barre, running her fingertips over the polished wood.

When was the last time she’d stood in a studio like this? She couldn’t remember, yet there was something about the sensations – the smells, the sounds of their footsteps, the almost expectant silence of the room, that was achingly familiar.

Lena knelt down on the floor, placing the bag beside her and opening it up to extract several wrapped packages. “You’ll want to take these into the changing room,” she explained, “I think we got your sizes right, but I kept the receipts just in case.”

When Amélie took the first box and opened it to reveal a pair of brand new ballet slippers, the tears started to run down her cheeks.

Emily’s hand came to gently rest on her shoulder. “When I was picking things up, I told them you hadn’t practiced in a while, and they suggested starting with these and building yourself back up to full pointe shoes.”

Lena’s voice was full of concern. “Was this ok, Amé? Did we get it right?”

“Of course you did,” Amélie whispered, her voice choked with a flood of emotion and memories, “I…” She couldn’t find the words to encompass it all in either of the languages she spoke. Once she would have just run from the room, or shut herself down until everything had been compressed into a tight little box inside, the lid clapped shut lest she be ordered to undergo more reconditioning.

Now, she reached out to take each of her lovers’ hands in her own, and brought them in to rest against her chest, pressing a kiss to their joined fingers in lieu of words.

Warmth surrounded her as they came together in a hug, and perhaps all of them had tears in their eyes when they finally disengaged.

“So,” Lena held up the other packages, “we’ll wait here – why don’t you get changed?”

The dance briefs, bra, leggings, and tutu dress fit her properly, and her fingers moved to wrap the ribbons for the slippers around her ankles and tie them off almost of their own accord, the long practiced motions just as sure and smooth as when she put her hands to Widow’s Kiss.

When she returned to the studio, she felt a bit of a flutter in her stomach – was she about to embarrass herself in front of them, after all they’d done? The look in their eyes as they saw her in the ballet costume went a long way towards easing her apprehension.

She’d expected Lena to be beaming, but Emily…Emily looked almost _dumbstruck_ , her eyes alight and her hand coming up to rest against her chest.

“ _Oh_ ,” the redhead breathed, “ _Amé_ …you look beautiful.” Crossing to her, the admiration and excitement in her green eyes was almost overwhelming, and the dancer could feel her cheeks heating. “Does everything fit well?”

“I need to stretch and make sure,” Amélie hedged, “but so far…it all feels very familiar. Very good.”

“I brought a bit of music,” Lena explained from the side of the room, “want me to put some on?”

She nodded, and a moment later the sound of a piano filled the space, Emily lightly touching her cheek before stepping back.

Amélie began with a simple set of warm up exercises, concentrating on her hamstrings and feet first, the motions slow at first but increasingly familiar as her mind recalled her old routines. Lunges and splits followed, then rising up into first position at the barre and stretching her leg up and over, feeling the slight effort of keeping her feet turned out properly before switching sides again, then testing the feel of the slippers and the movement of her toes with a set of _frappé_ exercises.

She felt a bit rusty as she moved into a _tendu_ , but as the music continued on, she let it carry her with it, adding in a _pas de chat_ , then taking herself into a _pirouette_ before incorporating a _jeté_ and raising her body and leg into an _arabesque_ as she landed. There were miscues, but she wasn’t surprised by that. The important thing was not to be perfect, after so long away – the important thing was _not to_ _stop_.

Watching herself and checking her form in the mirrors she felt more and more comfortable, her confidence improving as she added more leaps, turns, and crossovers. She knew Emily and Lena were still in the room, but they registered less and less as she turned her focus inward, paying careful attention to every sensation as her muscles remembered movements that had less and less to do with combat, the two lives she’d lived finding a new form in each step, blending past and present. Improvising across the floor, her body moving and flowing with the rise and fall of each song, building energy in the slower moments and channeling it into her movements as the tempo rose, until at last she had her eyes closed, giving everything over to how her body wanted – _needed_ – to move.

When the final song came to an close, Amélie melted to the floor, kneeling with her arms up in position, head thrown back, eyes closed, her chest heaving.  She held herself there for a long moment, feeling her heart’s slow, steady beat and the warm loose feeling in her muscles, underlain with just a slight ache that had always signaled a good workout – no part of her body complaining more or less than any other.

The sound of applause was almost startling, but she couldn’t resist the urge to rise back up and take a little bow to her audience.

 _Yes_ , Amélie realized as Emily took her up in an embrace that flowed into a kiss, _there_ are _more ways to feel so alive_.

Lena had a turn of her own as Emily stepped back, and then had one last surprise to offer: “Happy birthday, luv.”

* * *

 Amélie still felt a bit speechless at the fact that she had forgotten her own birthday as they sat down for what was either a very late lunch or an early dinner at a restaurant near the dance studio.

“How did you even know, _chérie?_ ”

Lena shrugged. “Asked Athena to see if she still had anything on file from the old days. Nothing too complicated.”

Looking over the menu to hide her reaction – Lena might not have felt what she had done was complicated, but it still had a great deal of _meaning_ – Amélie suddenly realized that this might not be the kind of establishment that her lovers had intended.

“Did you choose this place because the name was in French?”

Emily and Lena glanced at each other before the redhead nodded. “We thought you might like that. Is something the matter?”

“ _Haché_ ,” she explained with a little smile, “means hamburgers.”

“I…oh.” Emily laughed, then opened the menu to see it did, in fact, list a number of different types of steak, chicken, lamb, and vegetable burgers, all with different toppings. “Still, these sound pretty nice.”

“They do,” Amélie agreed, “it is fine. It is just funny.”

“I mean, at least all the _names_ are in French,” Lena suggested with a grin, “counts for something, right?”

Amélie snorted, but there was no heat in it.

“The baked Camembert starter sounds nice,” Emily suggested, “feel like splitting it?”

“Sure,” Lena agreed, “I might get a milkshake too – as long as I have a run or two to keep it all from going right to my hips.”

“Oh, it does _not_.” Emily rolled her eyes. “You’ve got the metabolism of a hummingbird, sweet. I swear you couldn’t put a pound on if you tried.”

Lena grinned. “Does that mean you’re tryin’ to fatten me up, pet?”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps we can think of a few ways to make sure you…work things off.”

“…in that case, maybe I’ll go with the cheesecake for afters.”

* * *

“For the record,” Lena’s voice carried through the apartment, “this is _not_ what I thought you had in mind!”

Emily could hear Amélie’s throaty chuckle echo through the hall. “Mmm, perhaps we can negotiate something else, later.”

Raising her dart rifle, Emily carefully crept into the kitchen, then tucked herself between the refrigerator and the door frame. Just past the couch… _there_. Brown hair just peeking over the back of the cushions.

_Hello, sweet._

Just as she’d been taught, Emily took aim and waited for her shot.

Amélie’s taunting contralto “ _Come ouuuut…”_ carried into the front of the apartment from the general direction of the bathroom. Lena’s head began to rise, and Emily breathed in. There was a _pop_ from behind her, and Lena ducked back down, the dart hitting the couch and ruining her shot.

But on the other hand…

Emily faded back as she heard Lena fire a couple of darts from her pistols – _thwip thwip thwip –_ and slid back around the pantry. She could see Lena’s darts plopping into the hallway, and a moment later a flash of movement from the open doorway of Amélie’s bedroom. Going down to her stomach, Emily shimmied forward just as the sniper rolled out into the hallway, her rifle clasped tight to her chest, unaware that she was about to be flanked.

She didn’t need to aim very much, with Amélie basically spread in front of her, but she took another breath before pulling the trigger to steady herself.

_Pop!_

“ _Et merde!_ ”

Emily grinned. “Sorry, darling. You walked – well, rolled – right into that one.”

Amélie sighed and nodded, acknowledging the point as she sat up. “I did…” Her eyes flicked behind Emily. “But revenge is sweet…”

Emily rolled onto her back and looked towards the living room just in time to see Lena coming into the kitchen with both guns firing,

“Cheers, luv!”

Darts fell on either side of her feet and legs as she brought up the gun, pumping the handle in one hand to advance the rotary magazine then firing blind, squeezing the trigger just before one of Lena’s darts finally hit her in the stomach.

Lena looked down at the dart that was now sticking to one of the clamshell plates of her accelerator. “So…do we call that a draw?”

“I suppose we do,” Emily agreed, taking Lena’s hand and letting her lover help pull her up off of the floor, “but I _did_ technically get both of you.”

Amélie chuckled as she came up behind them, putting a kiss to the side of Emily’s neck. “What is Lena always saying? ‘Special circumstances’?”

“That _was_ a pretty good shot,” Lena agreed, “especially for having to shoot from the floor.”

“I’ve had a pretty good teacher,” Emily admitted with a smile, “I _could_ ask if she’d give you a few lessons, sweet.”

Lena did her best to look offended before they all started to laugh.

“Right,” the brunette observed briskly after a moment, “I guess we’d better pick up our mess, yeah?”

Amélie smirked. “ _Some_ of us only have one or two to collect, _chérie._ ”

Emily turned to tap the end of the taller woman’s nose. “Some of us also forgot to look both ways before crossing the hall.”

“ _Ooooo._ Zap!” Lena unstuck the dart from her waist and handed it back to Emily before going into the hallway to collect more of the darts she’d sprayed while attempting to keep Amélie pinned down.

Amélie sighed dramatically. “Is this how I am to be treated on my birthday?”

Emily winked. “Oh, we may have one more present once we’re done picking up. I think you’ll agree it’s exactly how you would like to be treated on your birthday.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow. “Ah?”

“Mm, yes…” Emily passed behind her before leaning in to kiss the back of her neck, her voice dropping to a low murmur. “It’s very close by…” She placed another kiss just behind the sniper’s ear. “…and I don’t think you’ll want to waste any time unwrapping it.”

Amélie worried at her lower lip for a moment, then looked to where her toy rifle was still sitting on the floor.  “…I have to finish cleaning up.”

“Mmhmm.” Emily ran a hand along her lover’s hip and left after one last little squeeze. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

* * *

Lying beneath the bedspread with her lovers on either side of her, Amélie felt delightfully tired, but not quite ready to sleep. Emily had curled against her side and dropped off quickly, but she realized as Lena shifted that the younger woman wasn’t quite asleep yet.

She began to lightly stroke Lena’s back, getting a happy sigh in response. “Mmm. Did you have a good birthday, Amé?”

She turned enough to press a kiss to Lena’s forehead. “The best in a very long time.”

How long had it been since she’d even celebrated the day? Since she’d cared to observe it? Even _Sombra_ hadn’t tended to raise the point. Back then, what would she have been marking beyond another year spent serving Talon?

No. She hadn’t had a good birthday in many years. That it had come so unexpectedly made it all the better, really.

Lena nodded, then came up to kiss her before settling back down onto the bed. “Yay…love you…”

“ _J_ _e vous aime. Toutes les deux.”_

Lena made a happy little noise as she snuggled a bit closer, and Amélie let the warmth that surrounded her ease her to sleep as she closed her eyes.


	18. Momentary Happenstance

Emily watched the file transfer run to her portable drive, then nodded to herself as it completed, popping the drive from her computer and tucking it into her pocketbook. Once that was done, she took a deep breath, then put another copy of the same file on the A&A department server, and finally emailed a copy to her personal account.

“No such thing as too careful,” she murmured, “not with this.”

Her investigation had taken the better part of four months, but she now had as complete a picture as she could create without having actually been involved in the money laundering. Transactions dating back almost five years, different employees involved with creating the accounts that were sending and receiving the money, “clients” that didn’t correspond to real businesses, and the bank accounts that eventually appeared to be collecting the final amounts. It was breathtakingly complex, really, and the fact that she’d managed to unravel it all was close to a miracle.

Once that was done, she took a deep breath, then walked from her office and rode the elevator up before walking to Mr. Peel’s office and knocking sharply at the door.

“Come in!”

Emily did as requested, closing the door behind her and making sure it had latched. “Good afternoon, Mr. Peel.”

Her boss raised an eyebrow as he turned in his chair to face her. “Good afternoon, Emily. What brings you by?”

“I have my final report for the North American audit project prepared – there’s a copy on the server for you to review – and there’s a serious problem.”

The older gentleman’s eyebrows raised. “How serious?”

“I think it would be best for you to review what I’ve put together, and we’re going to need to put a team from Legal together as well. There’s been some very fishy activity in the New York office and I believe that a report to the proper authorities is warranted.”

Peel’s eyes widened before he took off his glasses and took out his pocket square to polish the lenses. “Are you quite sure? That’s not an accusation we can make lightly, you know.” 

Emily nodded. “There’s a reason I’ve spent so much time on this, sir. I had to be absolutely certain.” 

“I’d wondered if you’d found some irregularities,” Peel admitted as he replaced his glasses with a sigh, “I have to confess I was hoping it was something relatively benign. Stupid code tricks, bad estimates, you know the kind.”

“At first that’s what I had suspected too,” Emily admitted, “but then I started seeing more and more red flags the deeper I went into the problem.”

The senior auditor went quiet as he pulled up the file and skimmed the report, slowing down as he reached the conclusion, then sat back and pursed his lips in thought for a long moment before speaking. “Well. This…this is excellent work, Emily, but I’m damned if I’m pleased about the reasons for it.”

“Thank you, sir. Believe me, I feel the same.” Emily straightened in her chair. “How would you like to proceed?”

“I’m going to call the head of Legal Compliance and ask them to review your findings as well, and I’d like you to prepare a _précis_ for the board. We’ll be informing them immediately and from there…” Peel sighed, looking up at his office ceiling. “I suspect that's when the blood will hit the walls. It’s a shame, really – I’ve enjoyed having you as an employee.”

Emily’s brows knit with confusion. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Emily, you’ve just singlehandedly unraveled what appears to be a major undertaking of fraud – several years long at _least_ , and done it in a matter of months on what we had thought would be a standard A&A review. Fraud that, to this point, no one else in A&A had discovered.” Mr. Peel smiled sadly at her as he straightened in his chair. “I strongly suspect that by the time this has all blown through, you’ll be finding yourself in this office as my replacement.”

“I…oh.” Emily blinked. “I appreciate your confidence, but that certainly wasn’t my intent.”

Peel chuckled softly. “No, no, of course not. But it may well be the end result, all the same.” He looked at her for a moment. “Given the nature of what you’ve found…you have made copies of this?” 

“Yes,” Emily confirmed, “electronic and hardcopy.”

“Good. Take the rest of the afternoon off and get your presentation together while I arrange for the board meeting. You’ll get an invitation as soon as it's been scheduled.” He paused. “It may also be best if you plan to take some time away from the office, afterwards.”

Emily felt a lead ball settle in the pit of her stomach. “What exactly are you implying, Mr. Peel?”

“Anyone who put so much effort into this level of fraud will not take kindly to seeing it brought to light. I want to make sure you’re protected from any repercussions from allies they might still hold inside the company while things play out.”

“…ah.” Emily nodded. “When you put it that way…yes, I think I can arrange for a holiday.”

As it happened, she already had somewhere in mind.

* * *

Lena frowned as Emily explained how her meeting had gone while they stood in the copy shop waiting for the final hard copies to be printed and bound.

“So, how do you want to handle this, luv?”

Emily shrugged. “Start by just laying low at the flat, just as we did after Amé protected me in the alley. If it seems like I’ll need to testify in any criminal proceedings, handle it appropriately. Otherwise…”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “Otherwise?”

Emily’s eyes grew a bit distant. “I’ve been thinking a lot about Amélie’s family – her birth family. The vineyard and all that. I’d been thinking maybe we could take a trip, if she is comfortable with the idea. Let her try to reconnect with the places – maybe even the people, if she wanted to try.”

Lena whistled softly. “That’s…I don’t think it’s a _bad_ idea, but that’s a tall order, pet.”

“I know. I’d want her to say yes before anything else.” Emily leaned against a copier, careful not to bump any buttons. “If not, we could always visit Gibraltar I suppose. Not to necessarily jog your elbow at work, but Amé and I could get a hotel room or find a flat up for short term lease.  Wouldn’t be so bad to have you close, that way, and if…well. _If_ she wanted to try going in to speak to Winston or any of the others there, she could give it a try, and still have a place to go if she needed to feel comfortable.”

Lena nodded. “Possibly, yeah. Or there’s always a third option – could just pick a spot and _actually_ go on holiday.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “The last time we tried to go somewhere and do nothing, I seem to recall you bouncing off the walls within three days.”

“So we go somewhere and do _something_ ,” Lena countered with a saucy grin, “or possibly each other. Plenty of possibilities if we got a nice suite for the three of us.”

Emily chuckled.  “Well, there _is_ that…”

“Anyway,” Lena redirected as they left the shop, the box of bound reports tucked under Emily’s arm, “you still OK with me taking Amélie out for a date tomorrow?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well…” Lena paused to fish out her keys and unlock the car, waiting until they were both buckled in before picking up the thread. “I guess if there’s any concerns about someone being a problem –”

Emily shook her head. “Even if that should happen – and frankly I think I’d be in worse danger of someone trying to get me fired than anything else – I don’t even report to the board until day after next. The only people who know anything is going on are Mr. Peel, whomever he brought over from Legal to review my report, and me. Even the EA for the board just knows that he wants to present findings from the North American audit. They probably just think he’ll announce that we’re going to miss our earnings projections, if anything. Nothing that would raise any red flags.” She grinned over at Lena as her lover wove the car through London afternoon traffic. “This isn’t one of your spy movies, you know.”

Lena grinned. “Says the person who is dating the world’s most dangerous assassin – somewhat reformed.”

Emily snorted. “That’s rich coming from the girl who pops around in time and space – and is dating the assassin, too.” Looking out the window, she shrugged against the back of her seat. “I suppose I see your point, but still. Go have fun – enjoy yourselves, and I’ll probably just read a book.”

Lena was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “I suppose it is a bit silly to worry – and we’ll have our phones if you need to reach us, yeah?”

Emily smiled. “Exactly. Besides, you two haven’t exactly _been_ on a proper date by yourselves since the pub, have you? So go enjoy yourselves – I’ll be fine.”

* * *

“Once again you bundle me into the car, but will not explain where we are going,” Amélie observed dryly, “I’m beginning to wonder if this is a fetish for you, _chérie_.”

If she hadn’t been driving, Lena would have rolled her eyes. “It’s a surprise! Not much point of it being a surprise if I tell you where we’re _going_ , is it?”

Amélie smiled slightly as she hummed quietly rather than replying in words.  

Lena had noticed her lover had a tendency to do that when she was amused or enjoying herself but didn’t want to give away the game by admitting it out loud. She smiled to herself as she steered them onto the A23, willing to play along.

As she pulled off the motorway and headed into Croydon, Lena knew part of the surprise was about to be revealed as they wound through Mitcham Common before pulling up to a fenced off access road.

**CROYDON PISTOL & RIFLE CLUB**

Pulling up to an intercomm box, Lena dropped her window and tapped the call button.

_– Good afternoon. May I help you?_

“Hullo! I have a range rental for Oxton, 3pm.”

– _Ah, yes, one moment while I open the gate._

“Thank you!”

There was a buzz as the gate rolled back on the track, and Lena rolled her window up before taking them into the club.

“So you do want shooting lessons _?_ ” Amélie’s voice was filled with amused interest. “Why come out here for that?”

Lena chuckled as she pulled into a parking spot. “As it happens, the lessons are for _both_ of us. They’ve got something here I think you’ll enjoy!”

Amélie frowned slightly as they got out of the car. “Talon trained me in the use of practically every type of modern firearm.”

“ _Exactly_.” Lena’s voice was full of enthusiasm and satisfaction as she lead them into the club’s main building, and Amélie followed, her curiosity piqued.

Lena produced her reservation for the gentleman at the reception desk, and he lead them out to an outdoor firing range, where a white haired man in a shooting jacket and khaki trousers was waiting.

“Good afternoon, ladies. Are you my three o’clock?”

Lena nodded, extending a hand for a firm shake. “We are! I’m Lena, and this is my friend Amélie.”

Rather than shake his hand, Amélie offered a polite nod that their apparent instructor returned. “ _Bonjour_.”

“My name is Vincent,” the older man explained, “lovely to meet you both. I’ll be your instructor and RCO today.” Walking to the bench at the shooting stand, he drew back a broad oilcloth sheet that revealed two beautiful rifles – gleaming blued steel, shining brass fittings, and polished wood stocks.

“I have ear and eye protection here,” Vincent gestured to the table, “but before we get to that point we’ll be going through some basics. I understand both of you have some military training and firearms education, correct?”

They both nodded – in Amélie’s case that wasn’t _precisely_ true, but it was close enough for today.

“Right.” Vincent smiled at them. “Then the first thing I need to ask you is to forget practically all of it.” Lifting one of the rifles off the table, he held it up, barrel facing away from them, and turned it so they could get a good look at the action.

“This type of rifle is a traditional flintlock. The basics go back almost five hundred years, and they’re rather a different beast from anything you’ve likely ever handled…”

* * *

Standing just back of the firing line, Amélie made sure she had a firm grip on the barrel of the rifle, then picked the up the speed loader and poured the grains of the coarse powder she’d measured into the plastic cartridge down the mouth of the barrel.

After placing the cartridge into her pocket, she rested the bullet at the top of the muzzle. She reached over and grabbed the wooden starter from the bench beside her, pounding on the projectile until it had begun to travel down into the rifled barrel. Placing the starter back on the bench, she drew out the ramrod from beneath the barrel, using it to tamp everything into place at the base of the barrel until the ‘LOADED’ mark on the rod was even with the mouth of the muzzle.

The swishing sound of the ramrod sliding back out and then being returned into place beneath the barrel was surprisingly soothing. Much different than anything to do with Widow’s Kiss or any other weapon she’d handled before. There was something almost meditative about the process of preparing this weapon, requiring both deliberate handling and careful thought.

Pointing the rifle downrange, she moved the hammer back to half cock, then lifted the striking surface for the flint (why was it called a ‘frizzen’? Another bizarre English word) away from the pan. Taking the speedloader back out, Amélie poured the finer priming powder into the pan, then made sure the hole that would send sparks down from the pan into the barrel was clear before carefully lowering the frizzen into firing position, making sure to keep the weapon level so the priming powder would not be disturbed.

Kneeling down into a shooting stance, she sighted down the barrel at the target which had been placed against the rammed earth backstop, then brought the hammer back to the fully cocked position.

The weight of the entire assembly was much greater than Widow’s Kiss, but she held it steady as she took aim, closing one eye as she focused on the bullseye.

Her finger came down to the trigger, and Amélie stilled her breathing, her finger drawing the trigger back almost of its own accord.

As sparks began to fly from the impact of the flint against metal, she could hear a sizzle as the priming powder caught. Amélie resisted the urge to close her eyes or flinch away to protect them from the flying sparks and bright flash, keeping her body perfectly still for what seemed like an eternity before there was a sharp cracking sound as the powder in the pan caught, followed by a louder **_whoof_ ** as the rifle fired, the volume dulled by her ear protection.

Slowly exhaling once again as the broad plume of smoke wafted away, she rose back to her feet and smiled at the ragged hole at the center of the target.

When she turned, Lena was grinning crookedly at her. “I sort of hate that you turned out to be amazing at this, too.”

Amélie smiled and gave a pleased little hum as she tilted her head. “Yours were not so bad after the first few tries, either.”

“Most tend to need a little time to get used to the delay in firing – not to mention the spark and the kick compared to a modern rifle,” Vincent observed phlegmatically, “but once you have that down, a properly maintained black powder rifle is as accurate as the person firing it, at least within two hundred meters. Hitting a moving target when hunting is simply a matter of timing and leading your shot properly.”

Lena’s eyes lit up and Amélie raised an eyebrow. “Does that seem like an interesting challenge for you, _ma chérie?”_

“Well…” Lena turned to look over at the range master. “If that’s an _option_ here, it sounds fun to me.”

“We don’t allow for hunting live game here, obviously,” Vincent noted with a little twinkle in his eye, “but if you ladies will give me a few minutes, I believe I can arrange something…”

Much like the rifles, the solution turned out to be charmingly archaic – a motorized pulley with heavy rope that ran along the length of the backstop, drawing a set of wooden cut out targets in the shape of game animals along at a steady pace.

Both women had reloaded while the rangemaster set up the targets, but left their rifles uncocked and the pans unprimed until Vincent had returned and given them his permission to do so.

“Before firing,” he advised, “watch them move across and count out – think about the delay and where you’ll need to aim, then take your shot as you’re comfortable.”

Lena waved towards the firing stand. “Why don’t you take the first shot, this time?”

Almost every response Amélie could think of to that was inappropriate for their mixed company, so she settled for nodding before walking over to the stand and raising her rifle, finishing the steps to load and arm the weapon before setting the stock against her shoulder.

She had a choice between a pheasant, a hare, and duck, descending by size, and her ego demanded she take her shot at the smallest and most difficult. Confident that she could stabilize the gun without needing to kneel, she took a standing sniping stance, just as if she had been practicing with her normal gear or supporting an operation from the rooftops. She watched the targets go through a full circuit before tracking them with the rifle for a second, and on the third…

Sizzle. _Crack. **Whoof!** _

A moment after the rifle kicked against her shoulder there was a sound of wood being split, and when the smoke had cleared the front third of the duck was missing, splinters hanging raggedly from the remainder on the clip that was attached to the rope.

Lena whistled, impressed, and Amélie could feel her cheeks warm. “Cor, luv. Tough act to follow!”

“Excellent shooting,” Vincent agreed before turning to look at Lena. “Care to try the same target? I can reset the range.”

Lena shook her head with a smile. “I know my limits.” Amélie snorted with amusement, and Lena stuck out her tongue in response. “You can buy your own dinner tonight, you know. Anyway – I was planning to go for a different target, so there’s no need.”

The rangemaster chuckled as Amélie stepped down to make way for Lena’s turn. “Right, then. Up you go.”

Lena did shoot from a kneeling position, and Amélie found herself watching her getting comfortable and taking aim – the way she settled in, the rifle coming up to her shoulder as she rested her cheek against the stock. The line of her body, even under the bulk of the accelerator, and the little curve of her bottom just above the ground.

Watching her lover focus like this was always a fascinating contrast from her more casual behavior – still the same drive and energy, but directed inward. She didn’t see Lena like this often, and she enjoyed those rare moments.

The sound of Lena firing almost came as a surprise, and the sound of cracking wood followed the report of the shot.

Lena waited for the smoke to clear before she stood, satisfaction evident in her bearing. “Well, that’s not too bad, then!”

The hare had been cleanly decapitated by the shot, leaving only the pheasant untouched.  

“ _Très impressionnant, mon amour.”_

Lena turned with a broad grin and blushing cheeks. “From you, especially, that means a lot. Thanks, luv.”

“We’re about at the end of your reserved time,” Vincent observed, “unless you’d care to pay for an extension?”

“Tempting,” Lena admitted with a wink for her lover, “but we do have some dinner plans after washing up.”

“Mm,” Amélie agreed as she sniffed at the sulfurous odor that was rising from her shirt “I see why you told me to bring a change of clothes.”

Vincent’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “It does tend to stink a bit after a day’s shooting. Very well – if you’d both please place the rifles and protective gear on the shooting bench, then, and you’ll find changing rooms and showers back in the club. Thank you for joining us today, ladies.  You’re both welcome back any time you care to come in for more practice.”

“Are rifles normally rented,” Amélie wondered, “or purchased?”

“A bit of both,” Vincent replied, “but most regular Club members will purchase them through the club and have their rifles kept in our armory. A bit less paperwork and hassle with transporting that way.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting. Thank you for a very pleasant afternoon.” Perhaps Emily could be persuaded to try as well, if they came back. A membership might make for a good gift when Lena’s birthday arrived. Amélie made a mental note to look into the costs of rentals compared to purchase of a rifle and supplies over time later.

After thoroughly showering in the provided facilities to remove the powder residue and changing into fresh clothes, they made their way back to the car, Lena leaning just a bit against her lover. Amélie was a little surprised at first, but quickly relaxed into the contact with a pleased sigh. “The last time you did this, you were almost too drunk to walk.”

“Oh, I wasn’t _that_ bad…but it was a good excuse.” Lena winked up at her, then let her hand slip around the taller woman’s waist. “Besides, this is nice.”

Amélie leaned over to kiss the top of Lena’s forehead. “I didn’t say it wasn’t.” They disengaged as they reached the car, tossing the bag of dirty clothes into the boot before getting belted into their seats. “So, I understand we have dinner plans?”

“That we do,” Lena agreed with a smile, “I mean, it wouldn’t be a proper dinner date if we didn’t actually have dinner, would it?”

Based on some of their prior experiences getting takeaway or dining out, Amélie had expected Lena to take her out for Indian, or perhaps an actual French restaurant this time, but to her surprise the restaurant she lead them to after parking had a green, yellow, and red tricolor flag hanging from the frontage, decorated with a blue disc and golden star at the center, the name _ZERET_ lettered in a welcoming font on the windows.

“The flag – this is Ethiopian?”

Lena nodded with a smile. “Yup! Ever had it?”

Amélie frowned thoughtfully as she tried to remember. “…once, I think? Before. We visited Geneva and one of Gérard’s colleagues took us to lunch.” Cocking her head slightly, she tried to grasp the memory. “I think I enjoyed it, but…” She shrugged.

“Mm,” Lena squeezed her hand reassuringly, “well, let’s see what you think, then.”

“If nothing else,” Amélie squeezed back, “I am sure I will enjoy the company.”

Lena had arranged for what their server called a “Zeret Surprise” – a massive plate covered in spongy flatbread used as both container and utensil for samples of chicken, stewed vegetables, lamb, and a raw beef dish that reminded her of steak _tartare_.

“This _is_ good,” she assured Lena as they ate, once she’d been given an explanation of how to use the _injera_ bread to serve herself, “but very unexpected. I can’t recall ever seeing you eating it before.”

Lena nodded. “Emily doesn’t mind it, but it can be a bit messy to try making it at home or doing takeaway. And, well...” She paused, looking away a moment. “It’s something I like to eat, but it also has some…complicated memories attached to it, if that makes sense?”

Amélie nodded. “I think we both understand that position, _ma coeur._ ”

“Yeah,” Lena admitted softly, “yeah, we do. For once it’s _not_ something from the _Slipstream_ …more about how I grew up.”  

Amélie frowned thoughtfully. “You have never spoken about your childhood, really – not beyond saying you were born into being a football fan, at least.”

“I grew up in foster care,” Lena explained, “pretty much spent my whole childhood bouncing between homes – mostly around this part of town. ’S why I’m a Gooner. Whole neighborhood is, really. Anyway – Lots of Algerian, Ethiopian and Moroccan families here, Carribean, too. I was…” She coughed in remembered embarrassment. “Well. Let’s say I spent a lot of time in and out of trouble. Fair bit on the street, too. ’S part of why I signed up for the RAF pretty much as fast as I could – I wanted to fly, _God_ , I wanted to fly…but I also wanted to get the hell away from all of that.“

“I didn’t know,” Amélie admitted, “most of the files on you I received from Talon only concerned your career with Overwatch.”

“Not too surprising,” Lena admitted, “and, well, after all that…” She shrugged. “Anyway – when I was on my own, especially, a lot of times the folks running restaurants would leave a bit of food in a takeaway box by their back door and “forget” to come back for it. I loved it – I still do – but there’s times when those smells and flavors take me back a little farther than I want to go.”

“Ahh.” Amélie’s voice was soft, and her hand found Lena’s at the side of their table. “And tonight…?”

Lena smiled. “Tonight I’m working on some better memories.” Her eyes grew sly. “Did you know there’s actually a tradition of using a bit of the _injera_ to feed the person you’re dining with?”

Amélie’s eyes glittered as she leaned forward in her chair. “That sounds…intimate.”

“Very,” Lena agreed in a purring voice, “care to –”

Her offer was interrupted by an urgent tone coming from both of their phones, making them immediately drop what they’d been doing and reach for their mobiles, a sudden spike of adrenaline jolting through them at the messages on each of their screens.

**~ EMILY <3 ~**

**999**

**¡S O M B R A!**

AMI GET YOUR ASS HOME

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested in a NSFW interlude to take the edge off the cliffhanger, don't forget to check out [Unexpected Pleasures!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10426485/)


	19. Enemy Action

If she was honest, Emily was rather enjoying having the apartment to herself for a bit.

Not that she didn’t love her girls, but there was something nice about just taking a long hot bath, drying off, and settling on the couch in comfy old clothes for a quiet night with a good book and a glass of wine.  

_A stunning first impression was not the same thing as love at first sight. But surely it was an invitation to consider the matter._

Ha. If that didn’t describe how Amélie had come into their lives, Emily didn’t know what did.

She loved having both of them around lately, especially to see Amé opening up more and more, but there were days where her inner introvert just wanted a little time to herself. So much the better that it meant Amélie and Lena getting to have some fun on their own.

_One learns better than to hand one’s choices to fear. With age, with every wound and scar, one learns._

Emily hummed thoughtfully as she considered that line, then dog eared the page. Plenty of people would probably scream at her for that – paper books were rarer and rarer these days, but it was her book and her bloody money to spend on it.

Besides, if that wasn’t a motto for all _three_ of them…

* * *

Across the street, dark eyes peered through binoculars from the rooftop, examining the redheaded woman reading on her sofa before tapping the comm attached to his vest.

“Right – third floor, corner apartment, I’ve got her. Matches the description we were given. Appears to be alone.”

– _Got it. Meet us in the lobby, we’ll go up and get this taken care of_.

He had no idea who she was, aside from being a woman who had crossed the wrong kind of people. Shame, really. She seemed like quite a looker.

Still, that wasn’t _his_ problem, and a job was a job.

* * *

Emily was beginning to consider grabbing something small to snack on (and perhaps refilling her wine glass) when there was a scratching, scraping sound from the door.

“Back awfully early,” she mused to herself as she sat up, “did something happen…?”

The scratching kept on without the sound of a key going into the lock, and Emily felt a sudden flood of ice into her veins as there was a distinct _thump_ of a heavy boot against her door.

She left the book and wineglass on the coffee table and ran for the bathroom, opening the shower taps all the way. Once that was done she closed the door behind her as she left and tucked herself into Amélie’s bedroom, flattening herself against the wall just before she heard the sound of the front door being kicked in.

Emily reached into her pocket for her phone, went into her drafts, and hit send on a message she’d hoped she’d never need. As soon as the message showed as delivered, she shut the phone off and put it on the floor as quietly as she could, her ears straining for the sound of footsteps.

 _All you have to do is hide, Emily. You know how to hide in here – you’ve been hiding from_ professionals _for the last few months. Just keep quiet and listen carefully…help will be on the way._

* * *

_What a horrible irony it would be_ , Amélie thought as Lena maneuvered them through the congested streets like a Formula 1 driver weaving around the backmarkers, _if we were pulled over for a traffic violation._

She had her phone out and finally got a beep of acknowledgement as Sombra picked up her line, putting the call on speaker so Lena could hear as well, skipping the customary greetings.

“ _Where have you_ been ,  _Sombra?!_ ”

The hacker’s voice was somewhere between furious and frantic when she answered:  

 _–Trying to find out what’s going on!_ ¡Hijo de puta madre! _I_ _missed_ _it! They’re going for Emily – they might already_ be _there!_

Lena gave an aggrieved grunt as she slammed them around a lorry and then used the hand brake to help throw the car into a sharp drift around the next corner, a cacophony of horns in their wake. “ _Who_ is there? What do you mean you _missed_ something?!”

Sombra’s voice was practically incandescent with anger. – _The ‘talent’ is local and getting help from someone in T &W who apparently gave them your address, but the orders are coming from the US. One of the companies that was arranging for the money laundering – the company – all the rest were shells and I didn’t think they’d be that stupidly obvious, _ cojeme _…_

Amélie stared at the phone incredulously. “You told me that you would be able to give us warning! How did this happen?”

 _–There weren’t any electronic or phone communications until just a few minutes ago, when one of them called their ‘client’ to report they were about to move. There must have been a dead drop or an in–person meeting to arrange all of this. I can’t hack_ paper, _God damn it!_

Lena cut Sombra off before she could go further. “Fine! Shit happened. But what did you mean about missing something about where the orders were coming from?”

– _The company arranging all the shell companies and accounts – where all the money is coming through – is called Aerie Securities. Isn’t it_ obvious _?!_

Lena spared the barest glance away from the road to catch Amélie’s eye, but she was just as confused.

“We don’t get it, _ombre_. WHAT is so obvious?”

Sombra’s anger seemed to mix with an equal amount of exasperation. –¡Pinche puto pendejo baboso! _Aerie! Birds of prey! Your girl has been investigating another_ _TALON_ _cell!_

Amélie felt the blood drain from her face as a nightmare in blue and lavender filled her mind’s eye.

_“Non…”_

* * *

The sound of her breathing was like the bellow of a furnace in Emily’s ears as she watched three men covered from head to toe in black move into the kitchen.

“Thought you said you had eyes on her?”

“I _did_ , she was on the fucking couch with that book!”

“Probably heard you botch the lock and ran out to the balcony, you gobshite! I told you to let me do it, but you just _had_ to show off!”

“Look, both of you _shut up_. You checked the bathroom?”

“Shower was running but she wasn’t in it. Maybe she was getting ready for a bath when wazzock here spooked the bird.”

“I told you to _stop_. Job now, bitch later, or I’ll kick you both off the fucking roof _myself_. Clear?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine.”

“Now –  you go check the balcony, and _you_ sweep the master bedroom. I’ll hold down the kitchen and living room. _Move_.”

The scrape of the sliding door to the balcony had never been more welcome, and as soon as she saw the booted feet pass the door and go into the master bedroom, Emily was rolling through the hall just as she’d watched Amélie do, keeping her arms tight to her chest and passing into the bathroom without drawing attention. The shower was still running, and she could stand on the toilet to see into the hall without being spotted easily. She’d gotten Lena with that twice now, and whoever these men were, they weren’t her girls…

A few minutes later the one who had gone to her bedroom was back in the hallway. “Bedroom’s clear. I’ll check the spare.”

There was a grunt from the kitchen before the black clad man came back into the hallway, then into her girlfriend’s room. Emily crept as quietly as she could to the bathroom door, then did her best to half dash, half tip-toe into the open door of the master bedroom, then dropping out of sight as quickly as she could behind the door, her heart hammering in her chest as they continued the terrifying game of hide-and-seek.

* * *

Danny fumed as he closed the apartment door behind him. Fucking Kian botching the door – this entire thing went to shit the minute he’d given away the game.

“I had _eyes_ on her,” he mimicked petulantly as looked over the empty balcony, “bollocks.” The balconies were spaced far enough apart that making a jump would be tricky at best – but maybe she could have dropped down to the apartment below – the ledge would be slippery, but he’d seen people do stranger things.

 _We ought to just take the money we got up front and leg it_. Danny thought as he pulled a fag from the pack in his back pocket and lit up. Might as well do something _useful_ out here. _If she’s got away, what do they expect us to do? Kick down every door in the building? That’ll get us nicked for sure._

He’d nearly finished his second cigarette where there was an odd twanging sound, like someone cutting a piano wire, and a puff of air from _behind_ him, like a breeze, which made no sense at all…

He turned to try to figure out what the hell that had been, catching a glimpse of blue light just before a thick-soled green-and-black running shoe slammed into his jaw.

* * *

“Oi, boss?!”

“What?”

“C’mere – didn’t you say this bird was alone?”

There was a rustle of feet and rattle of something metal as the one in the kitchen joined the one in the second bedroom.

“Sure looks like she’s got a roommate doesn’t it…”

“Buggering fuck. This is supposed to be a no witnesses job.”

“Gonna have to do for her, too.”

“Go check the balcony. Figure out what’s taking Danny so fucking long.”

Emily backed up to the wall as quietly as she could, and then made her way over to the safe.

The soft clicks of the combination lock as she turned it seemed so loud that they’d almost certainly give her away, but no one came running to find her.

She slowly turned the handle and the door swung free, and her eyes went to the sole rifle that rested inside.

_Better to behave as if any gun, toy or not, should be given the same respect. It may not seem like it matters…but it could save your life – or someone else’s – one day._

“I think I understand a little better now,” Emily whispered to herself, “and I wish I didn’t.”

Lena’s pistols would probably be easier to carry but she had gotten comfortable using a rifle thanks to the games of dart tag they'd been playing. This one…just shot real bullets.

It was heavier, too, but she’d been expecting that from the few times she’d handled Widow’s Kiss before. Swallowing hard, she released the magazine as she’d watched Amélie do a few times and saw that, yes, those were bullets there, then replaced it and racked the bolt with a smoothly oiled _snick_.

Clutching Widow’s Kiss to her chest with one hand, she closed the safe as softly and quietly as she could, then slid their closet door open just enough to crawl inside, slipping the door shut behind her.

* * *

Kian frowned as he went to the balcony door, sliding it open with one hand, his pistol held low in the other. Where the hell had Danny gone? The balcony looked empty.

Sliding the door shut behind him as he stepped out, Kian looked over at the patio table and blinked as he realized there was a dark shape laid out on it. “What the _hell_ , Danny, we’re here to do a hit and you’re taking a fucking _nap?”_ He’d been about to shake the stupid bastard awake when he suddenly felt a hand clamp down on the back of his neck like a vice.

“ _Bonjour,_ ” a sultry voice purred, and a moment later he was pinned to the floor, with what felt like a woman’s boot firmly planted on his back.

A pair of running shoes filled his vision before their owner crouched down in front of him, wearing some odd thing that was projecting a little circle of blue light that danced against the patio floor.

“OK, mate. First thing – try to yell for help, and my friend here is gonna break your fuckin’ neck.”

The woman standing on his back shifted, and the tip of her other boot tapped the side of his neck for emphasis.

“Now – you’re here looking for someone, yeah? Found her?”

Kian shook his head.

“Good,” the woman with the green shoes said, “how many more of you buggers are inside?”

Kian thought about keeping his mouth shut, but a heel digging into his kidney quickly changed his mind. “… _one!”_ Gasping from relief as the boot eased off, he took a breath. “Just Haresh! Just Haresh…was in the kitchen…”

“Marvy.” The woman leaned down, letting him see the anger in her eyes. “You’ve got a choice here. Tell me that you’ve got some zip ties and we’ll string you up and let you wait out here for the Plod, or keep your gob shut and I can kick your head in until you pass out.”

“Belt pouch! They’re in my belt pouch!”

* * *

Emily held her breath when she heard footsteps coming up the hallway. She’d scooted back as much as she could, hiding behind some of Lena’s jackets and a few of her suits, but even with the reassuring weight of Widow’s Kiss in her hands she felt horribly obvious and vulnerable. Why had she snuck into the closet? Stupid, stupid, stupid, what was she _doing_ , what kind of an _idiot_ traps themselves in a _closet?_

_God, Lena, Amé, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m so so sorry, I don’t want to die in a fucking closet, I love you, I’m sorry, why didn’t I listen? _

She could hear the footsteps as he approached. Could hear a man’s voice grunt as he examined the bed, from the sound of it. Heard his breathing getting closer.

She inched as carefully as she could towards the narrow gap between the closet doors, just wide enough to let her see through. He was wearing black from head to toe, a pistol in his hand with what looked like a long canister attached – a suppressor, just like one of Lena’s spy films.

She held her breath as he turned away from the closet to look at the gun safe.

_Go on. Just go on. Just go on and leave and get out of here and I can get out of this fucking closet and I can sneak out of the room and maybe I can get to the kitchen or sneak past you all and out the door you broke and just run._

Her heart sank as he turned back to look at the closet. The barrel of his gun was pointed more at the floor than towards her, yet it felt like he could see right through to where she’d hidden away.

Her mouth felt full of cotton and her heartbeat was like a kettledrum in her ears.

She tried to swallow and her throat was like sandpaper as the gunman took another step towards the closet.

Her fingers gripped the metal and composites of the rifle, and the only thing Emily knew was that _she did not want to die in this fucking closet._

Her thumb came up to the selector and she risked a moment to look down at the markings stamped into the rifle.

She felt a sharp _click_ as she moved the switch from SAFE to SEMI, the action carrying a dreadful sense of finality with it.

Emily raised the rifle to her shoulder just as her lover had taught her, and as her finger came to rest against the trigger guard, more of Amé’s words came back to her.

_Before you put your finger on the trigger – remember that placing it there means that you are willing to shoot._

She tried to settle her breathing, and it seemed bizarrely easy to take a deep breath and then let it go.

Emily felt like she ought to be shaking, and yet her hands were almost eerily still.

She took aim.

_Aim a little high. Breathe in…breathe out. Breathe in…breathe out. Watch the sights…_

Her finger moved from the trigger guard to the trigger.

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…_

Emily tried to blink away the tears from her eyes.

Suddenly everything changed and time seemed to slow.

The gunman’s head snapped around, and his body began to turn with it, the gun rising into a firing stance as Amélie flew through the threshold.  

There was a certain sense of _déjà vu_ in watching her lover take on an armed attacker to protect her, but there were a few important differences.

For one, she _knew_ her guardian angel now. Knew her and was no longer almost as afraid of her as she was the men attacking her.

For another, though some parts of the fight were very similar – that wrist-snapping disarm, and the way she swept his legs out from under him – Emily realized that Amé _wasn’t trying to kill him._

Instead of taking his weapon and shooting him in the head, or breaking his neck as she’d done to one of the thugs in the alley, the former Widowmaker wrestled with him for a moment on the floor before she slammed the intruder’s head against the footboard of the bed, hard enough to make the headboard and bedposts rattle against the wall. He flopped to the floor, stunned, and Amélie flipped him onto his back, pressing her knee into his back to keep him on the ground.

Amélie fished a pair of zip ties from her pocket and bound her captive’s wrists together, then did the same with his feet, never uttering a word.

She left him moaning in pain and confusion on the floor, standing and looking slowly around the room before she approached the closet, kneeling almost exactly in front of where Emily sat before slowly opening the door.

Emily had let the rifle fall to point at the floor when Amélie had burst into the room, but now that she knew she was _safe_ she began to shake, her chest heaving as she looked into her lover’s golden eyes.

“We’re here,” Amélie murmured softly, “I am here.” She reached out and carefully took the rifle away, snapping the selector back to SAFE before setting it next to the bed.

The moment the rifle was safely removed, Emily threw herself forward and grasped on to her for dear life with a wordless cry of anguish and relief.

“We’re here,” Amélie repeated as her hands came up to gently stroke Emily’s back, “it is over, _ma belle._ ”

Emily took a shuddering gasp as her tears soaked into her lover’s blouse, finally loosening her grip and settling back on the floor as Lena came in, relief washing over her face as she saw both of them safe and sound.

Wordlessly, Lena settled down next to her, taking her up in a reassuring embrace until the world finally seemed to be spinning in the proper direction again.

“What…” Emily coughed, then swallowed again, finally able to work up a bit of moisture for her achingly dry throat. “What do we do now?”

“First,” Lena said softly, “we get you into some warmer clothes and a blanket.”

“Second,” Amélie breathed as she looked to where the apparent leader of the attack lay, “we get _answers_.”

“We can’t stay here,” Emily objected, “I know that much – they knew…Lena they _knew_ where we lived. _How_ did they know where we lived?”

“Shh.” Lena leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Don’t worry, pet. We’ll find out.”

“She is right about needing to go to ground,” Amélie observed, “all of us.”

“Don’t you worry,” Lena assured them both, “I know just the place.”


	20. The Prisoners' Dilemma

Amélie stared incredulously out the window as Lena drove them directly into the heart of London. “The shadow of Buckingham Palace is your idea of _going to ground?”_

“Trust me,” Lena answered with a little smile, “where we’re going? If we don’t want to be found, we won’t be found.” Looking over to where Emily sat in the front passenger seat, she took her hand off the gearshift to lightly touch the redhead’s thigh. “How’re you holding up?”

“I don’t know,” Emily answered honestly, “I just…I’m OK for a little bit, but then suddenly I’m back in that closet holding the gun and thinking I was about to die if I didn’t shoot him, and…” She shook her head. “And then I’m not OK. I’m not OK at all.”

Amélie reached out and lightly placed a hand on her lover’s shoulder from the backseat, and Emily reached up to take it with her own, squeezing tightly.

“It might be easier,” Emily admitted, “if we hadn’t brought _him_ along.”

Amélie looked over to the bucked and gagged man sitting beside her with wide, terrified eyes – Haresh, according to one of the ones they’d left on the balcony – and gave him a very unkind smile. “Just for a little while, _mon amour_. Once we have what we need…” She gave a little shrug. “I’m sure we can find somewhere to dispose of him.”

“Don’t you worry about him,” Lena agreed, “we’ll get this sorted right quick.”

Lena brought them into an underground car park a few minutes later, settling into a space and then looking into the backseat. “Right. Amé, you want to keep an eye on this pillock or leave him on the floor and come with?”

The sniper made a show of thinking it over. “I believe I will come with you. We will let our friend… _consider_ what he has to tell us.”

Once they’d left Haresh locked into the car face down in the passenger footwells, Lena lead them to an unmarked elevator, tapping the call button before stepping back to where Emily waited. Each of them took one of the redhead’s hands, offering as much quiet reassurance as they could until the elevator arrived with a cheerful _ding_ , opening onto a beautifully wood paneled car. Once inside, Amélie frowned as she realized there were no buttons beyond “Door Open” and “Door Close”

The elevator moved up smoothly, some pleasant music playing until it came to rest once again, the doors opening with a soft chime.

They stepped out onto what could only be described as an opulent lobby, with mahogany paneling, a marbled floor chased with gold inlay, and an omnic with shining chrome and immaculately glossy black plating behind a wide reception desk, a little glass desk lamp standing beside him.

“Good evening ladies,” the omnic greeted as they came towards the desk, “and welcome to Hotel 44.”

“Hullo, Alfie,” Lena replied as she stepped to the hotel, “Had a bit of a problem at the flat this evening.”

The omnic – Alfie, apparently – tilted his head slightly, his optics dimming as he offered a sympathetic hum. “Terribly sorry to hear that, Miss Oxton. May we offer you our hospitality?”

“Please,” Lena smiled back, “three keys, please, and roof access if possible?”

“But of course. Just a moment…”

Emily goggled as she looked around. “ _Lena_ , what is this place? How do you know him? If this is a hotel are we paying for the room? I don’t have any cash on me and if we’re trying to hide we can’t use a card, can we…?”

Amélie kept quiet, but wanted to know much the same. Well, the money wasn't a concern to her, but the rest…

Lena smiled. “Easy, pet. Easy – nothing to worry about, OK? You know I do a few favors for some pretty important folks here and there, with the whole adventuring bit.”

Emily took another look around the lobby, and a few deep breaths to help settle herself before looking back to Lena. “OK…yes. You’ve talked about that sort of thing before – usually while telling me it’s better if you don’t share too many details.”

Lena coughed. “Yeah, sort of…anyway, Alfie’s one of the folks I’ve gotten to know here and there. This place is sort of a combination of an exclusive club, a hotel, and a secret hideaway. You only get in if invited by a member, and like I said – if you don’t want to be found? You won’t be found here.”

Alfie returned with a small set of envelopes. “We do pride ourselves on our discretion. And please don’t worry about the cost – Miss Oxton is a VIP and the hotel is simply pleased to be of some use to you all.”

Lena smiled as she collected the keys. “Thanks, Alfie, you’re a star.”

The omnic offered a little bow. “One tries. The penthouse elevator is on your right. Do contact the desk should you need anything else.”

Amélie trailed them silently until they had reached the reached the penthouse, slipping past to make her way into the suite to make a quick perimeter check of the rooms.

It wasn't that she didn’t trust Lena’s assurances, but at the same time, her feelings of guilt and _failure_ for allowing Emily to come to harm needed an outlet beyond roughing up a few pieces of hired muscle.

Emily had been in danger, and they had been out _flirting at dinner._ How incredibly _useless_ she was. They’d known there was a risk and they’d left her alone. She, of _all_ people, should have _known_ what a foolish, stupid, _dangerous_ thing that had been to do…

The suite was clean of monitoring or listening devices, and as promised there was nothing to be concerned with. She walked to the large window that dominated the common area of the suite, looking out on the London night, losing herself in recriminations and painful memories until the feeling of arms wrapping around her waist brought her back.

“This wasn’t your fault.” Emily’s voice was still a bit shaky, but her eyes were clear when Amélie looked into her reflection.

“We left you _alone_.”

“Because you two deserved to have some time together.”

“You needed us, and _we were not there_.”

“Yes, you were,” Emily countered firmly. “If you hadn’t come into our lives – if you hadn't been helping me learn all the places to hide in the flat, or how to shoot if I had to, how long do you think I would have lasted? Not long enough for Lena to get home – if she even would have been in London in the first place?”

Amélie closed her eyes. Emily wasn't wrong, she knew that, and yet… “I never told you about the nightmare. The one that changed everything.”

Emily made a soft noise of interest. “The night we watched the Fellowship?”

Amélie nodded, her voice touched with an edge of fear as she stared into her own reflected gaze. “I dreamed about you being taken. About Talon _changing_ you. And the moment Sombra told us that Talon was connected to the companies you had been investigating, and that you were in danger…” Amélie could feel tears in her eyes as she looked away from the window. “We were supposed to keep you _safe_.”

“Oh, my lovely angel,” Emily’s arms tightened, giving her the firmest hug she could manage, “you _did_.”

* * *

Lena watched from the bedroom doorway as Emily hugged Amélie tight. Ordinarily she’d be right there herself, but she could tell this was a moment that needed to be between the two of them.

Besides, if she was honest, she was feeling some of the same guilt Amé did.

Opening the bag she’d brought with them, Lena drew out her pistols and vambraces, setting them on the bed, then pulled out the black jacket she’d worn when she and Amélie had gone for their first game of tag, followed by a pair of black leggings.

Time to get dressed.

She’d just finished locking down the vambraces, the accelerator, pistols, and her goggles still waiting on the bed, when she felt Emily’s hand on hers.

“It wasn’t your fault, either.”

Lena could feel her cheeks flush. “I wish I knew how you did that.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Read your mind? Or sneak up on you?”

“Yes.”

Emily sat down on the bed, her eyes still a bit puffy from crying. “We’ve been together long enough for me to know how you think, sweet. As to sneaking up, it helps when I’m in stocking feet.”

Lena laughed humorlessly. “True enough.”

“You’re also not touching what I actually told you.” Emily looked up into Lena’s eyes, her lips turning up in a sad smile. “It wasn’t, you know. If any of us should take some blame it ought to be _me._ Each of you tried to tell me to be more careful, and to take things more seriously. I thought that I’d kept myself out of the way enough. I thought that backing up the report in so many different places and making hard copies would protect me from anything at work, and that just keeping my head down would do the rest.”

Lena reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly before Emily picked up the thread again with a sigh,looking down at her hands as she spoke.

“I had a moment where I was terrified I was going to die. I was in the closet, clinging to a rifle I didn’t want to shoot, hiding from someone who I was convinced knew where I was…and I kept thinking about how sorry I was that I hadn’t listened to you.”

Lena shifted her pistols over so she could sit on the bed as well, drawing Emily into a hug. “You couldn’t have known Talon was mixed up in this. Even _Sombra_ didn’t know until the last minute, and she thought she knew _everything_ about what was going on.” Straightening up a bit, she broke the embrace so she could make eye contact. “As to the rest…do you remember what you said, back when I first found out you’d brought Amélie in from the cold? About not being a prisoner in your own life?”

Emily nodded, putting her hand in Lena’s.

“You were right,” Lena assured her, “and we shouldn’t let ourselves be trapped like that either – or to become each other’s jailers. You wanted us to have a nice time together, and until that moment where it all went upside down, it _was_. We were having a wonderful time and I want to do it again. And I want to take _you_ out for a nice date, and I want _Amé_ to take you out for a nice date, and for each of us to have our own lives and not feel like we have to shut that off because of me, or you, or her. Because that’s _important_. So don’t feel guilty for wanting it for yourself or for wanting it for the people you love, alright?”

Emily smiled, and even though she’d teared up again, the look in her eyes was nothing but bright. “I thought I was supposed to be the smart one, and here you go and say something beautiful like that.”

Lena gently reached out to wipe the tears away, stroking her lover’s cheek with the pad of her thumb. “Well, I have my moments, yeah?”

Emily drew her close and kissed her softly. “You have them more than you think, sweet. It’s one of the reasons I love you so much, Lena.”

“Love you too, Emily,” Lena whispered back, “always.”

The bed shifted again, and Amélie put a hand on Lena’s shoulder. “It was very well said, _ma chérie._ ”

When she turned to look at her lover, she saw that Amélie had dressed in her Widowmaker gear with the recon visor perched on her forehead, but her hair still down rather than her usual ponytail.

“See you had the same idea as I did,” Lena smiled just a little, “think it’s about time to visit our friend downstairs?”

“Indeed. Let us show him exactly who he has been dealing with.”

Emily looked between them, taking a deep breath. “Would you both forgive me if I want to take a bit of a lie down instead?”

“Of course,” Amélie assured her as she gently kissed the redhead’s cheek, “you have a very big day tomorrow, _belle fille._ You should rest."

“Ring Alfie if you need anything,” Lena agreed as she stood and finished tooling up, “and we’ll be back soon.”

* * *

Fully armed and ready for a fight for the first time in months, Widowmaker looked over to Tracer as they rode the elevator back down to the lobby. “How do you want to handle this, _chérie?”_

Tracer grinned just a bit wickedly. “Bad cop, worse cop?”

Widowmaker considered that with a thoughtful hum, then nodded. “I can do that…”

As they reached the lobby, Tracer stopped at the front desk, where Alfie waited attentively. “Going out for a bit, Miss Oxton?”

Tracer nodded. “Mm, just taking care of a little business. While I’m out, I wondered if I might ask a favor?”

“Of course,” Alfie replied, his optics brightening, “how may we help?”

“There’s two very rude lads zipped up on my apartment’s balcony who need removed, and our front door was bashed in. You still have my address on file?”

Alfie nodded, bringing his hands together. “I believe I do. We’ll make some…arrangements, and ensure your unwanted guests are escorted off the premises. Does your guest need anything upstairs?”

“Not right now,” Tracer demurred, “but possibly when she wakes back up.”

“Of course. Enjoy your evening.”

Tracer smiled a bit nastily as she collected her girlfriend and headed for the elevator down to the parking garage. “Oh, I intend to…”

* * *

Haresh didn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have done. When he woke up, his hands were still bound, but the rags that had been used to gag him had been removed, and his ankles felt loose.

Wherever he was, he wasn’t in the back of that car anymore, and it was dark. Really, really dark.  Was there something over his face?

He took a ragged breath as he started to feel a real sense of panic. What the _hell_ was going on?

“Oh,” a woman’s voice came from somewhere behind him, “wakin’ up, then?”

Haresh tried to turn his head but still couldn’t see anything. “Wh…what is this?”

“Oh,” the woman breezed, “nothing much. Just looking to have a little chat with you about the job you tried to pull.”

“Fuck off!”

The woman’s voice sounded disappointed. “You sure that’s your last word, luv?”

Haresh worked up a wad of spit and hocked it at what he hoped was somewhere near the woman’s feet.

The woman sighed. “Well. Suit yourself.”

There was a metallic sound, and something latched onto the front of his chest, pulling him upwards into the air before stopping with a sudden painful jerk that sent whatever had been over his face falling away…and revealed a cluster of burning red eyes staring into his face.

“ _She_ asked nicely,” the demonic looking woman hissed, “ _I_ will not.”

Shrieking in surprise, Haresh tried to turn away, looking frantically around him, and realized he was hanging suspended from some kind of line…and had to be at least 100 meters off the ground.

“Ah-ah,” the woman above him chided, grabbing his chin with an icy cold hand and turning him back to look at her, “you had your chance to do this easily. Look at _me_ , not the ground, _salaud_.”

Haresh stared up at her, the red eyed mask parting to reveal the face of the woman who had knocked him around earlier.

“Tell me who hired you…or I will let you _drop_.”


	21. Form and Function

If Emily hadn’t known their apartment door had been kicked in the previous day, she’d never have guessed by looking at it. When Lena unlocked the repaired door, it swung silently open on well oiled hinges, not even the little squeak she’d gotten used to.

“Is it odd,” she asked as they went inside, “that I feel a bit nervous even though…I mean it’s our _home_ , but…”

Lena shook her head. “No, it’s not odd at all. It’s our home, but with what happened, you know that it was violated. So it’s that moment of asking if you’re really going to be safe. I completely understand that.”

Emily had started to head for the hallway when there was a sound of movement out on the patio, and the moment later a rapping of knuckles on the glass door.

Lena turned, giving a wave and a nod before Amélie opened the door, fully suited up and armed for war. She’d even loaded the last of her venom mines into the gauntlet launcher. “Outside and the roof are clear. No sign of any unusual activity next door or on the surrounding buildings.”

Emily nodded, then crossed to give the sniper a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you, angel. I’m going to get changed, then.”

Her bedroom didn’t give her any unease at first, but when she turned to face their closet she found herself rooted to the spot, staring, not quite able to reach out and open the sliding door as the clock on the wall ticked steadily away.  

 _Come on, Emily. It’s just a door. No one else is here. Amé would have said something and Lena would be right with her. It’s safe._ _You’re_ _safe. Just open the door._

“Emily?” Amélie’s voice was filled with concern as she stepped into the bedroom. “You are not…”

Emily sat down on the bed with a sigh, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I’m…I’m sorry, it’s _stupid,_ but I went to open it and…”

“Sh.” Amélie put her finger to her lover’s lips. “It is not stupid. You do not have to apologize for it.” Turning, she opened the closet door. “Do you need help with picking out an outfit?”

Emily considered the offer, then shook her head. “No, I think I can do that much…”

Amélie raised an eyebrow, making a questioning noise.

“I thought I was going to be able to do this,” Emily admitted, “and now I’m suddenly not so sure. If I had trouble opening my own _closet_ , how am I supposed go in front of the board of a multinational company and tell them they’ve become a party to a terrorist money laundering scheme?”

Amélie sat down on the bed next to her and looked at the closet for a long moment before gesturing down at herself. “I made the decision to continue wearing this suit because, even though I was no longer part of Talon, there have been times when it was helpful to be _seen_ as Widowmaker. For it to be the identity I presented, and the effect it had on others. I think that there have been times when Lena has treated being Tracer the same way.”

“Mm.” Emily considered that, then nodded. “I know you’re right. Lena’s told me about how much she had to psyche herself up for getting into a cockpit after her accident, even though she wanted to fly again. She wears that jacket because it reminds her of old flying movies. Battle of Britain, that sort. Makes her feel good. Reminds her of being a pilot, and being a hero. So…play the part?”

Amélie nodded, gesturing to the waiting closet. “The clothes are your first step. You are going into battle? Then let them be your armor, _belle flamme._ Clothes that you would only wear for an important meeting, that you only use for work. _”_

Emily stood, looking at the closet with that new perspective as she ran her hand over some of her suits and work blouses. “Armor…I think I can do that.”

* * *

Lena smiled as Emily came out of the bedroom dressed in a smart black suit, wearing one of her best white blouses and a pair of low heels, her hair gathered up into a bun. “Oo. Looking very smart, luv.”

“Thank you, sweet.” Going to the bookshelf, she moved their copy of _The Hobbit_ aside, pulling the portable drive from where she’d hidden it, then slipped it into her purse. “Are the bound copies still down in the car?”

“Yup,” Lena confirmed with a nod, “all present and accounted for.”

“OK,” the redhead closed her eyes for a moment before straightening up slightly, “I think I’m ready, then…but when all this is over, I think I want to remodel that closet.”

“Mm,” Lena hummed thoughtfully, “shouldn’t be too tough. Maybe you could even talk to the landlady about opening up the kitchen a bit.”

Emily smiled. “Well, seeing as you _are_ the landlady…”

Amélie frowned as she came into the living room. “You told me once that Lena did not pay the rent.”

“And she doesn’t,” Emily smiled, “Technically if you look at the paperwork _I_ own the flat, but Lena put the money up.”

“Couldn’t well have my name on the papers with being a notorious member of Overwatch and all,” Lena demurred, “but yeah.”

“I see,” Amélie’s lips pursed thoughtfully, “and was that money related to the ‘favor’ you did for the Omnic at the hotel, _chérie?”_

Lena coughed. “Ah…sorta. Not exactly.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll be talking about that, by the way.”

“Yeah…” Lena coughed, then looked up at the clock on the living room wall. “But for now, time to go, isn’t it?”

“True.” Amélie slung Widow’s Kiss over her shoulder, then headed to the patio door. “I’ll follow. You should go – it wouldn’t do to be late.”

* * *

As Lena drove her to work, Emily felt herself relaxing. Despite everything that had happened, Amé had been right. She knew what she’d need to do once she stepped into the office, and the more she put herself into the role she’d need to play today, the easier performing her part felt.

As Lena pulled up to the front door, Emily reached back to grab the box of bound copies, then leaned over for a quick but heartfelt kiss. “Love you, sweet.”

“Love you, too. I’ll be getting a few more things from the flat to pack up, then we’ll meet back at the hotel when you’re done.”

“Right. And Amé will have an eye on me the whole time.”

Lena grinned. “As usual. So go and knock ’em dead, yeah?”

Emily made her way into the building and took the elevator directly to the executive floor, checking her phone on the way up – five minutes until the board meeting was scheduled to start.

“Right. Here we go…”

As she stepped off the floor, she noticed Mr. Peel waiting by the door to the boardroom, his entire bearing broadcasting relief when she walked off the elevator car.

“Oh, thank God,” the senior auditor breathed as she approached with the box of reports, “I was getting concerned when you weren’t in your office first thing.”

Emily nodded, keeping her expression neutral. “Do you remember what we discussed, just before I left your office?”

Mr. Peel’s eyebrows rose. “I do, yes…?”

“Someone attempted to encourage me to leave for that holiday last night. Permanently.”

The older man’s face went white as a sheet, his voice dropping to a whisper. “ _What?_ Emily, are you alright?”

“Honestly?” She shook her head. “No, I’m not. But thankfully I wasn’t hurt, and I’m going to deliver my report, go to a very nice hotel with my girlfriend, and leave London until someone tells me that I need to appear in court.”

“Excellent plan – but that also means…” Peel ran a hand through his silver hair with an aggrieved noise. “Emily, the only person I allowed to see that report was the chief Counsel.”

“I believe you,” Emily offered, “but there’s no time.”

“No,” Peel admitted as he checked his watch, “there isn’t. Ready?”

“As I can be,” Emily admitted as the doors opened, “and it will have to be enough.”

Squaring her shoulders, she carried the reports into the boardroom with all the care of a woman transporting a nuclear bomb.

Once the preliminary notes and business for the board were handled, the Chairman looked across to where Emily and her boss had taken seats. “Now, as I understand it we have some urgent business to address, at the request of A&A. Stanley?”

Mr. Peel nodded, then stood. “Thank you very much, sir. I’ve been made aware of a major issue that was unearthed during the North American audit for this year. I regret to say it’s one that has managed to avoid notice for some time, in fact, but we can and must move to address it now as quickly as possible. We’ve prepared a written _precís_ for you that covers the broad strokes, and a comprehensive report is available for anyone who wishes to review it.” Once the bound copies had been distributed, he nodded to Emily, who stood up in turn. “I’d like to have Ms. Wright explain – she was responsible for the bulk of the work you have in front of you.”

With the eyes of the board on her, Emily took a deep breath, paused for a moment to settle herself, and began to speak.

“Good morning. This began as we were pursuing the audit of North American operations, when I began to observe irregularities in their financial projections for the third quarter…”

* * *

“…and at this point, while I cannot speculate on where these companies are directing the money after it passes through our hands, I can say that what research I’ve done on my own initiative suggests most of the ‘clients’ appear to be owned by a set of shell corporations that were registered by the same entity. My recommendation,” Emily concluded, “is that once we’ve completed our due diligence internally, we make an immediate report to the National Crime Agency and the American FBI, since most of the ‘clients’ involved in this scheme appear to be registered there.”

The shocked silence from the board was almost gratifying, but it had quickly begun to tilt towards oppressive until the Chairman of the Board finally cleared his throat. “This is…well. ‘Staggering’ hardly seems a large enough word for it all.”

“I certainly felt the same as I began to realize how complex this scheme truly was,” Emily admitted, surprised at how even her voice sounded, “and I’m afraid there is one last matter related to this which I did _not_ disclose to you in the report.”

Eyebrows rose around the room, and suddenly a bit of that nervousness was fluttering in her stomach as the Chairman leaned forward in his seat. “And what would that be…?”

Emily linked her hands in front of her to hide the slight tremble in her fingers. “Shortly after I delivered my findings to Mr. Peel, and this board meeting was scheduled, I was attacked in my home. Through extremely fortunate circumstances, I wasn’t done any lasting harm…but the men who broke in made it clear that they were looking for copies of my work.”

That brought brought a chorus of murmurs and gasps from around the table until the Chairman cleared his throat sharply to silence the room again. “I’m glad to hear that they were unsuccessful, at least. I assume the police are now involved in the matter?”

Emily nodded. “Yes, they took the men who invaded my flat into custody last night.”

“Very good. Thank you, Ms. Wright.” The chairman waited for Emily to return to her seat, then stood, straightening his coat before he addressed the assembled board members.

“Ladies and gentlemen, in light of what we’ve learned, I want the appropriate reporting to the authorities done immediately – frankly I think A&A has done all of the due diligence necessary at this point. I want projections on likely impact to profits for the quarter and year, and for marketing and PR to prepare responses for when this inevitably hits the media.”

Nods traveled around the table, and the chairman stood, the others following a moment after. “Stanley, thank you for bringing this to our attention, and I will be following up to discuss how we go forward with you.”

Mr. Peel nodded, still looking a bit peaky in the aftermath of the bombshells she’d dropped. “Of course.”

The Chairman’s next stop, to her surprise, was to walk to Emily and offer his hand. “Exceptional work, Ms. Wright.”

Emily smiled through the firm handshake. “Thank you, sir.”

The remainder of the board left over the next few minutes, until it was just the two auditors standing in the boardroom with a few extra copies of the _precís_ and an empty box.

“Well. It seems we’ve both survived,” Peel remarked with a little smile, “I know I already told you well done, Emily, but all the same.”

Emily nodded, sagging slightly as she let herself relax a bit. “Thank you. If you should need anything else…”

The senior auditor smiled. “We’ll talk. Please – get away from all of this and enjoy yourself. You’ve more than earned it.”

Emily left the boardroom, then took a left instead of going straight to the elevator, making her way to the stairwell and up to the rooftop. It wasn’t long before she heard a second set of footsteps behind her, and she wasn’t surprised when the door opened once again.

She was relieved that it _wasn’t_ her boss who had followed her, but the firm’s Chief Counsel – Lyles, if she remembered the lawyer’s name correctly. She’d always thought that he’d looked like a bit of a weasel.

Lyles’s smile was as fake as his toupee. “Come for a breath of fresh air?”

“Something like that,” Emily replied, “I have to admit I had quite a case of nerves going into the boardroom.”

The lawyer chuckled. “With all that you had to report, I’ve no doubt.” Pulling a cigarette case from his suit, he lit up and took a long drag before speaking again. “Have you any idea how much effort you just wasted?”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “So it _was_ you who sent the men to my home.”

“No hard feelings, I hope.” Lyles smiled thinly as he tapped a bit of ash off onto the rooftop. “You must understand that we’ve spent quite a lot of time establishing those accounts and channels. If you had disappeared…well. Reports get lost all the time. Peel’s due to for retirement in a few years. With the right enticement, he might have been encouraged to step away a bit early.”

Emily grimaced at the thought. She’d seen the pictures of Mr. Peel’s children and grandchildren in his office. It wasn’t hard to imagine what kind of ‘enticements’ might be offered if Talon was involved. “And in his place, someone who you had already made sure wouldn’t give away the game.”

“Indeed. Now, I’m afraid, it will be much more complicated.” Lyles shook his head. “But that’s business.”

Emily walked towards the facing building. Saw a glint of light off of something that shouldn’t have been there, and smiled before she turned back to face Lyles. “And if you’d succeeded in killing me? Would you have called that ‘business’, too?”

“Of course. Not much point now, though.” Lyles’ eyes narrowed as his hand slipped inside his suit jacket again. “Even if I pushed you off the rooftop the whole damn board knows now. There’s only so many ‘accidents’ that can be arranged. But in your case…I’ve no idea how you got the drop on the lads I engaged, but I assure you that you’ve made some powerful enemies today.”

Emily smiled very coldly. “I see. Well, I will take that under advisement.” She paused, then stepped just slightly towards the lawyer and to the side, as if planning to head for the door. “Oh – and I’m sorry about your arm.”  
  
“What?!” The lawyer’s head snapped up, and a moment later he stumbled backwards with a cry of pain that blended with the thunderclap of a gunshot, a dark red stain spreading across his shoulder. His arm jerked as he fell, and a black coated knife of some kind clattered to the rooftop.

Emily kicked the knife away, sending it spiraling off the rooftop. “The leader of those thugs you hired – Haresh, I believe? – was dropped off at Citadel Place along with a copy of my report this morning. I’d expect you’ll have someone waiting to speak to you when you get to the hospital.”

Lyles stared up at her in shock, eyes wide, before turning his head at the sound of a pair of boots landing on the rooftop. Emily grinned, then turned just enough to catch Amélie – or perhaps as she’d said in the apartment, Widowmaker – standing behind her.

“Hello, dear.” Nodding to the sniper, she turned back to Lyles, who was now gaping incredulously at both of them. “Perhaps _you_ ought to spend a little time considering just how powerful the enemies you’ve made today are, Mr. Lyles.”

Turning away from her would-be attacker, Emily put her arm securely around her guardian angel’s waist. “Shall we go?”

Amélie gave her the ghost of a wink, put her right arm around Emily’s shoulders to help keep her close, then fired her grappling hook at the next building over.  

Their journey back to the hotel, swinging from rooftop to rooftop as she clung to her lover, was as exhilarating a ride as she’d imagined it would be.


	22. As You Mean To Go On

Lena knew she was fidgeting when she caught herself looking at her watch for the ninth time in five minutes.

“They’re fine,” she tried to reassure herself, “and you’re fine. You dropped the report and the bugger off with the Plod, Emily’s doing the board meeting, Amé will have her back soon as she’s done. We planned it and it’ll be fine. C’mon. Don’t get back into bad habits, Lena.”

She’d made it maybe another thirty seconds before she had an urge to check her watch again. “Oh for _fuck’s sake_ , Oxton…” Lena stood and made herself go to the window instead, looking out at the view of Buckingham Palace and central London. It was a beautiful clear day, and she’d nearly managed to start enjoying it when her eye caught a dark shape flitting across the skyline, growing steadily larger as it approached, until she could clearly make out the bright splash of Emily’s red hair against the dark fabric of her suit and the cooler tones of Widowmaker’s gear.

_Oh, thank god._

Taking a second to just breathe with relief, she turned and walked back to the bed where she’d left the suitcases she’d packed up with their essentials from their apartment, plopping back down and trying not to look like she’d been fretting.

The look she got from Emily as her loves walked in made it clear she really hadn’t succeeded.

Standing up and blinking herself over to hug both of them had probably been a clue too, Lena had to admit.

“Everything go alright at the office, luv?”

Emily nodded, then leaned in to kiss her forehead. “All done, sweet. Report delivered, the board’s already starting on taking action. All we have to do now is get out of town for a while.”

Lena gestured to the suitcases. “All packed up – hope you don’t mind that I picked a few things out for everyone.”

Amélie made a small show of opening her suitcase and examining the contents. “Neutral colors…matching socks…I am _very_ impressed, _chérie_.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “I _do_ know how to dress myself – and others – thank you.”

Emily gave her an amused little look, then began to let her hair down. “I think I’d like to slip into something a little less formal before we do much more. Did you grab anything to eat this morning?”

“Just a cup of tea while I was waiting,” Lena admitted, “not really much else.”

Emily nodded sympathetically. “Mm. Why don’t you ring your friend up downstairs and have a few things sent up while the two of us change?”

“Good idea,” Lena agreed, “any preferences?”

“ _Croque madame_ ,” Amélie requested, “if they offer it. If not an omelette is fine.”

“That _does_ sound good,” Emily agreed, “and I imagine we won’t be eating for a bit once we decide on the next steps.”

Lena nodded, then stepped out to the suite’s common room to pick up the phone.

* * *

Amélie had been amused to note that the “hotel” that was apparently run by an omnic had a human waiter delivering their room service order – two _croque madames,_ eggs in a nest for Lena, a pot of coffee, a glass of orange juice, and a carafe of water.

She’d finished about half the meal when Emily brought up one the thread of discussion they’d dropped the previous night. “So. The hotel.”

Lena finished chewing, then nodded. “Yeah. I guess you wanted to know, right? Both of you probably.”

Amélie nodded with an interested ‘hmm’, but let Lena continue on.

“So…like I said, after Overwatch came apart and before the Recall, I spent a fair bit of my time getting around doing what I could. Sometimes against Talon, sometimes just looking after the neighborhood.” Lena leaned back in her chair. “After the first six months or so I started occasionally getting contacted by…people who needed some favors, or who might be able to point me in the direction of someone who could use my help.”

Emily nodded. “You told me some of that – but never told me exactly what sort of people. Who were you helping to find yourself in a place like this?”

Lena looked down at the remnants of her toast. “Sometimes the Underground to help with bot-bashers coming around. Sometimes helping to get people out of a bad situation, sort of like what we did with that girl who was getting slapped around by her boyfriend.” She swallowed nervously. “Sometimes doing a bit of work for MI5 or MI6.”

Emily’s jaw dropped. “ _Lena._ You… _what?!_ ”

“I thought they didn’t call themselves that anymore,” Amélie observed with a frown, “just in the movies.”

“Old habits die hard,” Lena shrugged, “anyway. I'm…sort of a troubleshooter, now and then. Unofficially. Like a consultant."  
  
Emily was visibly struggling to grasp this. "Which means…?"  
  
Lena looked away, flushed with embarrassment. "They found some trouble and politely asked if I could shoot it."

Amélie frowned. “You told Emily about returning to Overwatch. Why not this?”

Lena sighed. “Because I don't like bringing work home, for one. Because some of what I had to do was slit your own throat before reading secret…and because in some cases it was safer that you didn't know, pet.”

Emily’s eyebrows rose. “Worse than Talon?”

“Sometimes,” Lena answered grimly, “and I didn’t want you to have to deal with that. Especially if things had ended up with me in deep shit…I didn’t want any of it to splash on you.”

“You should have told me.” Emily sat back, frowning. “I don’t give a damn what splashes on me if it means I can be there for you, you bloody idiot.”

Amélie raised an eyebrow, but let the rest go. Lena’s eyes flicked over to her apologetically, and she shook her head slightly. _She needs the apology, not me._

Lena nodded slightly, acknowledging the point. “Sorry, Emily. When you put it that way…even if I couldn’t share details I should have at least let you know who I was getting the leads for a few of my ‘adventures’ from.”

Emily nodded. “I know I told you I wanted to have as normal a life as we could manage…I think we both took that to bad extremes. But we’re still here, Lena.” She reached out to take Lena’s hand and kissed her knuckles, then looked over to where Amélie was watching them with her hand in her chin. “I suppose it’s too late to tell you that the two of us can be a bit daft?”

Shaking her head, Amélie found herself smiling. “You made a point of reminding me that I am a person, not a tool, _ma belle_. People make mistakes…but they can also learn from them.”

“That’s true,” Emily returned the smile, then looked back to Lena. “There was something I was going to tell you from the book I was reading, before everything happened. About not giving our choices up to fear. I think maybe we can each take a lesson there.”

Amélie nodded firmly. “All of us – we have all given up enough. So, you did some ‘favors’, _chérie._ How did that lead to learning about this place?”

“It was through Alfie,” Lena explained, “he used to do a lot of work in the Underground when it was first turning into a community instead of a dumping ground. An organizer, you might say. That got him a lot of attention – not all of it good. He needed some help moving around safely for a while, and I got asked if I could help.” She sat back and took a sip of her orange juice before going on. “I guess the hotel has gone through a few different owners, but it’s always operated by similar rules. Very private, very exclusive. He arranged to stay here a couple of years ago, and after a while he ended up taking over. Not too long after that he worked out an arrangement with the lads at Vauxhall Cross – he passes along useful information that comes his way now and then, and they’ll occasionally send over a guest or two who needs to disappear for a little while.”

Amélie nodded. “On the subject of disappearing…”

Lena looked over to Emily. “Any thoughts, luv?”

“We talked about a few possibilities the other day,” Emily looked between her lovers, then focused on Amélie, “I wanted to ask you if…you might be ready to take a trip home.”

Amélie felt her heart skip as she tried to process that idea. “Home? I have…” She stopped herself, realizing she’d been about to say something that was no longer true. “After I became Widowmaker I had no home. Now…if I have a home, it is the two of you.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised that Lena would come around the table and hug her after hearing that, and yet somehow she was, and when Emily joined her, she felt her heart beat just a bit faster.

“You don’t mean Annecy,” Amélie finally asked, “do you?”

“We could start there, if you like.” Emily settled back down in her chair. “But I thought perhaps you might like to go to Ribeauville. Even if we didn’t go to the vineyard…you might enjoy the chance to reconnect to some pleasant memories there.”

Amélie turned the idea over in her mind, dredging up the few memories she’d recalled after the night she’d told Emily about her family’s vineyard. She hadn’t realized how long she’d been lost in thought until Lena reached out and gently squeezed her hand.

“It’s OK if you aren’t ready,” Lena reassured her, “we could go anywhere else you like. Visit Gibraltar, New York, wherever strikes your fancy.”

“I won’t be upset,” Emily met her eyes, “honestly. If you’re not –”

“No,” Amélie interrupted her, “I…if it is like what I remember, it will be beautiful this time of year. We should go. I…would like to go.”

Lena smiled. “Well, I guess I had better ask Alfie if he might be able to help us out with some train tickets, then.”

Amélie reached out to stop Lena before she could reach for the hotel room’s phone. “I think I might be able to handle this.”

* * *

¡S O M B R A!

Sombra?

How’s Emily?

Safe, thanks to you.

 

I was worried I’d been too late.

 

We all were.  
But Emily was clever – just as you said.

 

Good.

Next time?

Try NOT keeping me hanging for almost a day, amiga.

 

Désolée.

We had to handle a few things.

 

That’s fair.

So. What now?

 

Now I need your help.

Come meet me at your favorite cafe.

 

Amélie had been touched by the realization that Sombra had come to London when she’d realized Emily was in danger.

She’d considered the best way to express that to her, and had decided to start with going to the counter to pick up a plate of lemon bars to go with her coffee when she’d arrived at Café Travonna.

Sombra entered a few minutes after she’d taken a seat – apparently the hacker had decided to wait for her to arrive before making an entrance, as usual. Dressed in black leather pants, a white blouse, and a blazer in such a dark green that it appeared black at first, she had decided to go for a casual look that made Amélie raise an eyebrow as Sombra settled onto the couch facing her.

“I thought you didn’t like ‘boring old wizard movies’, _ombre._ ”

“Well,” Sombra winked, “maybe I like a _few_.”

Amélie chuckled, then gestured to the lemon bars. “You should have one. They’re very good.”

“That’s impressive coming from the woman who said chocolate was pointless.” Sombra reached out to take a bar and nibbled on it before giving a little raised eyebrow. “Not bad! So…” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “What’s the plan?”

Amélie took a sip of her coffee. “I…we…will be going to France soon. Annecy first, and then traveling north to Alsace. I have…family ties there. But I think it would be best if we had clean documents – to say nothing of taking Lena’s accelerator or my equipment. I need your help so that we can disappear.”

Sombra nodded. “How long do I have to get things together?”  
  
“The sooner the better,” Amélie answered, “we won’t go back to the apartment for the moment, but I don’t want to stay in our hotel for too long, either. I trust that Lena trusts the friend who is covering for us there, but…”

Sombra groaned as she reached for another piece of lemon bar. “What is it with you and Gabi and handing me last minute deadlines?”

Amélie reached down to pick up her bag. “If it helps, I still have a fair bit of money that I took from Talon.”

Sombra dismissed that idea with a flick of her fingers. “Save it for your wedding, _amiga_. I’ll get this done.”

Amélie’s brows knit with confusion. “I don’t think there is anywhere that is actually _legal_ –”

“ _Ami._ ” Sombra pinched the bridge of her nose. “Do you always have to be so damn literal?”

Smirking, Amélie picked up her coffee. “Got you.”

Sombra blinked incredulously, then grinned with delight. “You _bitch._ ”

Reaching out with the hand that wasn’t holding her mug, she tapped Sombra’s nose with the tip of her finger. “ _Boop_. ”

Sombra stood up. “Well, if _that’s_ how it’s going to be, I had better get to work. Can you meet me back here in a couple of hours?”

“Of course.” Amélie stood as well, and this time she was the one to reach out to hug Sombra. “Thank you, _ombre_ – for everything.”

Sombra would never admit to tearing up in public. “ _De nada, araña._ You’re gonna call me, right?”

“Of course.”

* * *

Emily settled back into her seat in the Premier section of the Eurostar that was whisking them from London to Paris. Their suitcases waited for them in the luggage car, while Lena’s accelerator and weapons and Amélie’s Widowmaker gear rested in the carry on compartment above their heads in cases marked with “NO SCAN – MEDICAL EQUIPMENT” tape.

Both of her lovers had fallen asleep not long after the train had gotten under way and the conductor had been through to check their travel documents. No surprise, really, since they’d been up all night while she’d at least managed a little sleep before going to the board meeting. She found herself looking at Amélie after a while instead of the scenery, examining the lines and planes of her face.

She looked a bit younger, Emily thought, when she let her guard down and relaxed. Amélie’s lips were turned in a little smile, her chest rising and falling slowly with her head nestled against the padded cushions of the seat rest.

Lena was half turned in the seat, facing away from the afternoon sunlight coming in through the window, and her hand was stretched out to rest over Amélie’s knee, completely dead to the world.

Sipping at a glass of water, Emily smiled back at them. She didn’t think Amélie would ever be carefree, exactly, but the fact that she’d relaxed enough to sleep here spoke volumes. She wondered if Amé would have ever dared close her eyes in public before all of this began.

Reaching for her phone, she checked the weather in Paris before putting it away again. It was a shame they wouldn’t have much time there on their way to Annecy. Really just enough to switch trains and that was about it.  Maybe, once it was safe for them to return to London, she’d ask Amé if she would enjoy seeing the city properly before they went home.

Closing her eyes, she felt the motion of the train easing her back to sleep, and let herself relax as well. After all, they had two more hours before they’d reach France…


	23. Sailing Between An Old Life And The New

When they arrived in Annecy, it was nearly midnight before they collected their suitcases and hailed a cab. They had made an effort to stay awake through the last stages of the train ride so their sleep schedules wouldn’t be quite as wrecked, but all three of them had been a bit dead on their feet when they finally reached the surprisingly well-named _Hotel Splendid_.

Their room had a lovely (and  _so soft_ ) king bed and a beautiful view of Lac d’Annecy, but all they really cared about when it came down to it was their chance to fall asleep together, Lena curled protectively against Emily, Amélie with her hands securely wrapped around Lena’s waist.

The next morning, to her surprise, Lena had managed to wake up first. She savored the warmth and the feeling of security between her girlfriends for a little while, then carefully extracted herself to shower and dress, belting on the accelerator before she made her way down to the hotel lobby to grab a walking map of the city and a cup of tea.

She hadn’t really known where they’d go after her partners had woken up, but she hadn’t expected that the first place Amé wanted to visit would be a cemetery.

Things became a bit clearer after they’d taken the metro from the stop next to the hotel over to the Ponchy, and Amélie lead them to Cimetière des Glaisins. She stopped a few feet past the low wall that separated the graveyard from the larger park, looking around with the air of someone who had visited long ago, but wasn’t certain she remembered the way.

“Amélie?” Emily came up, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s…it has been a long time since I came here,” she answered as she looked over the headstones, “I think…there.”

Lena kept respectfully quiet as Amélie lead them deeper into the cemetery, then gasped softly as she recognized the last name on the gravestones.

Amélie knelt down in front of the matching headstones, and after a moment Lena and Emily approached as well, each of them placing a hand on her shoulders.

 

Jean-Jacques Philippe **MEUNIER**                        Henriette Étancelin **MEUNIER  
**   
   2015 – 2068                                               2013  – 2048

       _Époux Fidèle                                            Épouse bien-aimée_

 

“I tried to remember their faces,” Amélie murmured, “I remember their voices, sometimes. Moments. Smells. _Papa_ smoked Gauloises. It’s why I started, when I was old enough. He would smoke as he walked, or when he took me to the park. I…I think he worked at a bank.” She bowed her head, tears at the corners of her eyes. “ _Maman_ …I don’t remember if she worked. I think she played the violin. When I try to think about her, I remember the music. I remember those things…but not their _faces…_ ”

Lena joined her lover on the ground, wrapping an arm around her waist and giving her a sideways hug. “Your mum…was it the Crisis?”

Amélie shook her head and was quiet for a long moment before she finally spoke again, slowly, as if trying to piece the sentences together one word at a time. “She had a pain in her stomach. At first she said it was just bad food. Food was rationed because of the Crisis. It was never good. Her pain would not go away and _papa_ finally made her go to the doctor. There was…they found a mass.” Amélie placed her hand just above her belly. “Here. They tried to treat it…but it had been there too long.”

Lena closed her eyes. “You must have been pretty young.” The sheer amount of tragedy Amélie had endured in her life was staggering. Her parents, her husband, everything she’d suffered at Talon’s hands. It said a lot about just how much steel was in her lover’s spine to have gone through it all without being driven completely insane.

“I was.” Amélie’s voice was thick with frustration. “I can remember _this_ …so many other things I cannot, no matter how much I try, but I remember _this_.”

Emily’s voice was hushed. “Pain and loss…they become part of us. We can try to move past them, we can try to accept them, and we can do our best to grow from them. But they’re still a part of us.”

They held Amélie as she finally let her tears fall, and after a few minutes she was ready to speak again.

“I think _papa_ wanted me to grow, after. I was already taking dance lessons, but I remember…he bought me my first pointe shoes. He would send flowers when I performed. Wishing me luck. He would come to the recitals.”

Emily looked thoughtfully at the headstones. “Did he…did he know what happened?”

Amélie shook her head. “A heart attack, while I was…gone. When I was still ‘missing’, after I…” She swallowed, and Lena held her a bit tighter. “After Gérard. While Talon was ‘improving’ me. I came here, once. Before I knew Sombra.” Her face pinched with pain. “I was told it was a foolish waste of my privilege to leave the base. I was ordered to undergo more reconditioning.” The tone of her voice said just how pleasant that had been.

“After Sombra started to cover for you,” Lena asked, “did you ever…?”

“Never again. Not until today.”

“We can come back again,” Lena promised, “and visit Gérard in Paris, too.”

“Whenever you are ready,” Emily agreed, “just say the word.”

They left the cemetery behind, walking through the park for a little while before deciding to just wander the city.

They’d turned down _Rue Sanite Claire_ when Amélie had unexpectedly recognized the name of a restaurant a few doors away. “I liked this one.”

Lena perked up as they stopped to look at the quaint-looking restaurant’s frontage. Food _did_ sound good. “Oh yeah?”

Emily reached out to take Amélie’s hand, and Lena smiled at the way Amélie’s expression lightened just a little bit as Emily lead them towards the restaurant’s door. “Sounds like a good place to stop for lunch, then.”

* * *

The restaurant had turned out to be a cozy little affair with a dozen tables and a small bar inside. Emily had considered the menu and opted for a plate of scallops, while Lena had only needed to hear ‘and the entire plate is covered in melted cheese’ before she’d decided on the raclette.

Amélie had needed a little time, but finally settled on the cassolette, and they ate quietly for a few minutes before Lena gave the conversation at the table a much needed kick. “This is really good. I can see why you liked it. Did you come here often?”

“Often enough to remember the name. It is nice that the food turned out to be acceptable.” Despite her earlier melancholy, Amélie gave them a teasing smile. “You have both ruined me. How could I ever go back to ration bars?”

Emily grinned. “I’m perfectly happy to take credit for that.” Sipping her wine, she took a moment to consider how to phrase what she wanted to ask. “Have you thought about what you’d like to do next?”

Amélie put a finger against the rim of her wineglass. “I would like to visit Ribeauville. There should be a train in the morning.”  
  
“I grabbed a train schedule while you were in the shower,” Lena explained, “it’s back at the hotel but I did check. Easiest way to go is to take the train back to Lyon then transfer to go north. It’s a little shorter by car, but the direct route cuts through Switzerland, and we’d have to get our ducks in a row for the border crossings.”

Emily could tell by the look in Amélie’s eyes how good an idea she thought that would be. “I don’t see why we need to be in any hurry, sweet. We’re on holiday, after all. How often does the train leave for Lyon?”

“Every few hours. There’s trains north at about the same times, too. We could leave in the morning and be in Ribeauville by early afternoon.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Emily looked back across the table. “What do you think, Amélie?”

“The train is fine. I am just…” She shook her head, looking down towards the table. “I decide I should try to see the vineyard – see my cousin and his family – and then a few hours later I think it is a terrible idea. How do I even begin to explain…?”

Emily considered what to say while she drained the last of her wine, but to her surprise Lena was the one to speak first.

“You don’t have to tell them everything at once,” Lena said gently, “and for that matter you never have to tell them anything you are not comfortable with. If you wanted to tell them that Talon took you after Gérard’s death, and experimented on you, it’s not a lie, honestly. If they ask things that you don’t feel right telling them, then say so. We’ll back you up.”

Amélie considered that with a soft hum.  “But what do I say if they ask about things I can no longer remember clearly?”

Emily reached out to take her hand, squeezing reassuringly. “It’s not going to be an interrogation, angel. If – and I do mean _if_ – they should ask anything along those lines, just tell them that you have trouble recalling things because of what happened to you, which, again, is true.”

Lena reached over as well, placing a hand on her forearm. “Honestly, it’s ok to be nervous. Just remember that more likely than not they’re going to be thrilled that you’re _alive._ The rest…it’ll work out, all right? And don’t forget that you’ve got us. If it gets to be too much, if you need backup, anything, we’ll be there.”

Amélie let out a long sigh, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes as she smiled back at them. “I had no doubt of that, _chérie._ ”

“Hey,” Lena suggested after Amélie had dried her eyes, “why don’t we settle up and go out to the _Pont des Amours?_ We can find someone to take a few pictures of us with our phones. Send one to Winston, maybe, let him know things are going well.”

Amélie considered that, then nodded. “Sombra might appreciate one, too.”

Lena snorted. “She’ll probably just hack your phone anyway.”

Emily swatted her shoulder lightly. “I’m sure she’d appreciate hearing that Amé’s thinking of her. Besides, it’s good manners.”

Lena raised her hands in surrender. “Right, OK, OK…”

They ended up taking several pictures on the wrought iron and stone bridge, taking advantage of the stunning backdrop offered by the lake and the Alps beyond. A picture all three of them, of course (thanks to the help of another tourist) with Amélie in the center and her lovers hugging her from either side, and a second where Emily and Lena were kissing her blushing cheeks as she gave the camera a little smile. Lena was clearly straining on her tip-toes to manage the feat, and the accelerator’s fairing could be seen just poking out from the top of her backpack.

Emily set the picture of herself hugging Lena from behind as her phone’s new lock screen, and one of her kissing Amé beside the _‘Pont des Amours’_ sign as her background.

Lena opted for continuing her tradition of selfies as opposed to handing someone else her phone, making sure to capture the city proper as the background for the picture she took with Amélie, while the mountains set the scene for her shot with Emily.

Amélie posed for a picture of herself kissing each of them in turn (Lena leaping up and wrapping her legs around her waist had been a surprise, but Emily insisted her expression was ‘priceless’), but also went along with Lena’s encouragement to pose for a few shots by herself, both against either side of the wrought iron fencing as well as one shot of her walking towards the New City, framed by the broad trees that arched over the span of the bridge.

Amélie decided to send the photo of herself beneath the trees to Sombra, and the picture of her being kissed by both of her lovers, along with a note: _Enjoying our first stop._

* * *

That night Emily slept nestled between them, and this time it was Amélie who woke to the sound of Emily’s distress as she called out in her sleep.

“i’m sorry,” Emily sounded almost on the verge of tears, “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, **I’m sorry!** ”

“Shh.” She shifted so she could gently run her fingers along Emily’s side, murmuring softly into her ear. “Shh. You are safe, _ma coeur._ You are safe. It’s all right. We’re here.”

Emily groaned, not quite waking, and Amélie adjusted herself again so she could press a bit closer to her lover’s back, offering as much comfort as she could. Lena hadn’t quite woken up, but she had also snuggled a bit closer to Emily in response to her distress, brow furrowing in her sleep.

Perhaps because of their visit to her parents’ graves, or perhaps because of trying to recall more of her mother earlier, a memory came to her – an old lullaby she’d heard many times before, she realized. Keeping her voice as soft as she could, Amélie began to sing.

_Il était un petit navire_  
_Qui n’avait ja-ja-jamais navigué  
_ _Ohé! Ohé!_

_Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,_  
_Matelot navigue sur les flots_  
_Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,  
_ _Matelot navigue sur les flots_

_Il entreprit un long voyage_  
_Sur la mer Mé-Mé-Méditerranée  
__Ohé! Ohé!_  

_Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,_  
_Matelot navigue sur les flots_  
_Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,  
__Matelot navigue sur les flots_  

_Au bout de cinq à six semaines,_  
_Les vivres vin-vin-vinrent à manquer  
_ _Ohé! Ohé!_

  _Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,_  
_Matelot navigue sur les flots_  
_Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,  
__Matelot navigue sur les flots_

It was really a quite morbid song. Sailors lost at sea and planning to kill and devour the smallest man on the boat after running out of food was a strange subject for a lullaby. Despite that, everyone sang it to their children – and besides, they never _actually_ ate the poor sailor.

_Au même instant un grand miracle,_  
_Pour l’enfant fut-fut-fut réalisé,  
__Ohé! Ohé!_  

_Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,_  
_Matelot navigue sur les flots_  
_Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,  
__Matelot navigue sur les flots_  

_Des p’tits poissons dans le navire,_  
_Sautèrent par-par-par et par milliers,  
_ _Ohé! Ohé!_

_Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,_  
_Matelot navigue sur les flots_  
_Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,  
__Matelot navigue sur les flots_  

_On les prit, on les mit à frire,_  
_Le jeune mou-mou-mousse fut sauvé,  
_ _Ohé! Ohé!_

_Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,_  
_Matelot navigue sur les flots_  
_Ohé! Ohé! Matelot,  
_ _Matelot navigue sur les flots_

_Si cette histoire vous amuse,_  
_Nous allons la-la-la recommencer,  
_ _Ohé! Ohé!_

Emily seemed to finally settle into a deeper sleep as she finished the song, and Amélie leaned over to gently brush a kiss against her temple. “ _Bonne nuit, ma belle flamme._ ”

When she raised her eyes, she realized that Lena’s had roused at some point while she’d sung, and their lover was smiling at both of them with tears at the corner of her eyes.

“That was beautiful,” Lena whispered, “you ought to sing more often, Amé.”

Amélie could feel herself blush. “ _Merci._ Hopefully it will help her sleep.”

Lena smiled. “After all that? The nightmares wouldn’t dare bother her again.”

Amélie nodded, doing her best to relax back into the bed, placing one last gentle kiss against Emily’s neck before she began to drift slowly back to sleep. “ _Bonne nuit_ …”

Lena’s voice rose sleepily from the other side of the bed. “Good night, Amélie. Love you…”

None of their respective demons and nightmares would plague them for the rest of that night.


	24. Strings and Roots

The next morning, as they showered and dressed to leave, none of them discussed Emily’s nightmare or what Amélie had done to ease her, but Emily did hug her taller lover just a bit tighter and longer than normal when she’d kissed her good morning.

They opted to skip breakfast at the hotel in favor of some coffee on the train to Lyon, and Amélie asked if they might take a little time to see a few sights in the old city.

“We never spent much time here when I was younger,” Amélie explained, “and…I could use a little more time before we head to Alsace.”

Emily nodded sympathetically as they left the train station. “We aren’t going to make you drive straight to the vineyard if you don’t want to. I’d love to see a few sights here.”

“Why don’t I get a locker for our bags,” Lena suggested, “and you and Em can figure out where we go first.”

They marveled at the architecture of _Primatiale Cathédrale Saint-Jean Baptiste_ , joining a tour through the nave and taking pictures of a few of the more dramatic features before wandering into the Quartier.

Emily and Lena had begun to discuss their options for lunch when the shorter woman suddenly stopped in her tracks. “…Em?”

Emily turned, eyebrows raised. “Yes, sweet?”

Lena looked around with an increasingly concerned expression, and Emily suddenly realized why. “Did we lose our girlfriend?”

“I…oh.” Emily coughed. “Yes…? Back the way we came?”  
  
“Right.”

When they found her, Amélie was staring at a storefront with a sign colored in shades of purples and blues: _Musée des Marionnettes du Monde_

“Amé?” Emily reached out to gently touch her arm. “Are you alright?”

“I saw the sign,” Amélie explained slowly, “and something about it…the colors, the museum…it was a reminder. This is who I _was_. Talon made me their puppet. It just…it struck me and I couldn’t bring myself to look away.”

Lena stepped in front of her. “Hey, luv. Here. Look at me.” She waited until Amélie’s gaze was focused on her, then reached out to take her hands, raising them up with the backs of Amélie’s hands facing upwards. “I don’t see any strings here, do you?”

Amélie shook her head.

“Talon wanted you to be theirs – but you _aren’t_ ,” Lena insisted softly before kissing the back of each of her hands, “you’ve been finding your own way. You’ve learned to be your own person again. You’ve been making your own life. You’re no one’s puppet. Not ever.”

Emily’s arms wrapped around Amélie’s waist. “For the record, I agree.”

Amélie closed her eyes, letting herself be comforted through the waves of emotion that washed over her, then opened them to look at the museum’s door. “They are open for a few more hours…I could look inside.”

Lena gently squeezed her hands. “I wouldn’t. No reason to drag yourself through there right now. Besides, we found a pretty decent looking spot for lunch. Why don’t we head over there instead?”

Emily stepped around to join Lena, subtly putting herself between Amélie and the museum. “If you decide you want to go have a look later, we could always come back to Lyon again. I’d love a chance to see the old Roman city and the Museum of Fine Arts, but both of those could use a full day each.”

Amélie considered that, then nodded as she let Lena turn her away and lead her down the street. “I could eat…and we do have a train to catch this afternoon.”

They knew Amélie was feeling better when she shook her head and sighed at Lena’s choice for lunch.

“Even in _France_ you find an Indian Restaurant, _chérie?_ Somehow I should not be surprised.”

Emily chuckled. “You have to admit she’s consistent…”

“Perhaps the better word,” Amélie scoffed, “is predictable.”

Lena crossed her arms in a pout. “Oh, come on! I haven’t had a curry in, what, three weeks?”

Amélie considered that, then conceded the point with a little hum as she ducked her head. “I _suppose_ she may have earned a treat.”

Emily grinned wickedly. “Hmm. She _has_ been behaving herself. Do you think you’ve been a good girl, sweet?”

Lena stuck out her tongue. “ _I_ think I’m getting us a table.”  
  
They waited until Lena had disappeared into _Le Royal Indien_ before sharing a laugh and following her inside.

* * *

After lunch, they were able to catch the mid-afternoon train to Colmar, relaxing in their seats in first class as the French countryside flew by.

“So we’ll get into town about six,” Lena explained as she checked her copy of the train schedule, “and after that we can either take a bus, which will need about another hour to reach Ribeauville, or we could rent a car at the train station.”

Amélie frowned. “Can we rent a car without attracting attention?”

“Sure,” Lena assured her, “I mean, Emily’s name isn’t in any of the papers as far as I know – she’s just on holiday. No warrants out for my arrest or anything like that right now. I’ve been trying to fly under the radar, but I’m not actually undercover, really.”

“And I do not have a driver’s license,” Amélie observed dryly, “so I would not be the one renting the car regardless.”

Emily chuckled from her seat. “There is that. I’ll see about a car, then?”

“Wait,” Lena asked, “why can’t I see about the car?”

“Because I’m on holiday,” Emily explained with a smirk, “and Tracer’s Corner.”

Lena looked over to where Amélie was smiling at them both and put on an exaggerated pout. “ _Fine._ Can I pick the hotel?”

“Yes,” Emily agreed, “but that means Amé gets to pick where we have dinner.”

“Deal!”

* * *

The drive up from Colmar to the smaller town was beautiful, especially as they left the main motorway and began to drive along the wooded roads that wound through the rolling hills, the early evening sun casting highlights and shadows across the old Roman walls that framed Ribeauville.

“Oh,” Lena murmured as they made the turn to take them into the town proper, “that is _really_ pretty. I can see why your family visited here.”

Amélie nodded. “It is good land for the grapes, but the ruins and the towns are also very beautiful.” She tilted her head slightly as the sight of the town brought back another fragment of memory. “There is an old castle, just past the other side of the town. There used to be a children’s show about witches who lived there, flying around the countryside and having adventures. I remember…we visited the ruins and I imagined being a witch…”

Emily smiled back to her from the passenger seat. “That’s a lovely image. Did you have a little hat?”

Amélie snorted. “What would I have done with such a thing?”

Lena grinned. “Ridden around on a broom? I bet you would have been cute.”

Amélie tried to imagine her younger self prancing around the old ruins in such a ridiculous outfit, and smiled. “Perhaps.”

Lena’s choice for the evening turned out to be a quaint, old fashioned hotel which sat on the on the Place de la Sinne with windows covered in flower boxes and obviously handmade comforters placed over the pair of Queen sized beds.

“None of the hotels had King sized beds, far as I can tell,” Lena explained as they settled in, “but I thought this looked lovely.”

“It is,” Emily agreed with a smile, “absolutely.” She looked over to the widow, where Amélie was standing at the window and looking out on the narrow streets that lead to the fountain that rose above the plaza. “Amé?”

“Mm?” Amélie tilted her head slightly but didn’t turn.

Emily and Lena came around the beds, but gave their lover a bit of space. “Are you alright, angel?”

Amélie walked to the edge of the bed and sat down with a sigh. “Nerves, I think. I am sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, luv.” Lena settled behind Amélie and hugged her from behind. “You know we could just go visit a few spots around here and give you time. Nothing has to happen tomorrow.”

“No,” Amélie shook her head, “I need…I need to do this. I have never run from what I became. I should not run from who I was.” Lena’s arms tightened around her waist, and Emily’s hand came to rest gently atop hers.  
  
They sat for a few minutes before Amélie turned her hand so that she could squeeze Emily’s then slowly stood as Lena let her up. “We should go to dinner.”

Emily smiled. “Did you decide on a place?”

Amélie nodded. “I think so. _Au Cheval Noir_ seems to be good, and it is an easy walk from the hotel.”

“Sounds like a plan, then.”

Dinner was good, and though Emily had been a bit concerned about the wine list when she’d realized that the restaurant offered several different vintages from the Meunier vineyard, Amélie had just reviewed the list and ordered a pinot blanc to go with her tarte flambée.

The next morning, they showered, dressed, and had a light breakfast before driving West, passing through the rest of the small town before Lena put them onto the Route de Sainte-Marie aux Mines.

“Could have almost walked this,” Lena observed, “just a couple of kilometers, really.”

Emily looked up to the top of one of the rolling hills just on the outskirts of tow. “Is that the castle you mentioned? Chateau St. Ulrich?”

“Yes.” Amélie pointed to a spot a few hundred meters down the hill. “Some of the vineyard sits on the hillside, there.”

“This really is beautiful country.” Emily turned in her seat so they could make eye contact. “If things go well, would you like to stay for a while?”

Amélie went silent for a moment as Lena turned them onto the access road that would lead to the vineyard. “Ifthings go well…”

Emily offered a reassuring smile, but Amélie struggled to return it. She looked down at the outfit she’d picked out after running through several variations. Sensible walking shoes. Black capris. A white long-sleeved blouse and a deep purple silk scarf that Emily had bought for her. She’d considered a coat, but had decided against it. Her hair in a lower ponytail than the one she would normally wear when going out as Widowmaker, and a touch of lip gloss.

She’d considered using makeup to conceal her altered skin tone, too, but had finally decided against it. After all, if – _if_ – this did go well, trying to hide it today would simply mean painful explanations later. Better to be honest, instead.

Lena followed the road to the stone fence that marked the boundary of the vineyard, passing the small sign set into the gate: _Meunier et Fils_ – _Vins d’Alsace._

There were parking spots paved out next to one of the farmhouses that had obviously been converted for use as offices, and to provide a tasting room for tourists following _La Route des Vins_ through the area.

Amélie waited for Lena to shut off the car, then unbuckled herself. She could not let herself hesitate or she might very well ask to be taken back to the hotel. She climbed out of the car, heading for the farmhouse door, and heard her lovers trailing a few steps behind her. Her hand closed on the wrought iron door handle, and for a moment she nearly backed out again. Then she tightened her grip just slightly and pushed it open so she could step inside.

The inside was a mix of the original stone walls, lightly stained wood, and more modern materials that combined with the large windows to give the main area a warm and open look. There was a table off to one side that could easily hold a dozen people, and several desks off to the side, one of which was occupied. A young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, with bobbed dark hair who stood up as they came in.

“ _Bonjour,_ ” the woman greeted them, “ _comment puis-je vous aider?_ ”

Amélie turned and nodded to her. “ _Bonjour, je pourrais parler à Bernard s'il vous plait?"_

The woman seemed surprised by her appearance, but covered it quickly with a smile. “ _Si vous voulez bien patienter un instant, il est dehors_.”

She went out the back door to find the owner, and Amélie busied herself by looking at some of the art pieces on the walls and a few wine competition awards in frames and shadowboxes, while Emily and Lena settled down at the tasting table, their hands linked together on the tabletop. Part of her dearly wished to join them, but she settled for just looking over and smiling as much as she could to them, receiving a blown kiss from Lena and a smile from Emily in return.

The door leading to the vineyard opened, and Amélie turned to see her cousin come through the door.

Bernard had been closer to forty when she’d married Gérard, with chestnut brown skin and a face that had seen many hours working out in the fields. Back then, his hair had been a color almost as dark and rich as the soil his vines grew from, with dancing eyes and a ready smile.

Today, his hair was now an iron grey shot through with a few touches of white, the lines in his face had grown deeper, but his eyes…they were still filled with the same amusement that she remembered, his mouth turned up in a little smile as he wiped dust and dirt from his hands onto the apron he wore over a dark blue striped shirt and a pair of heavy canvas trousers.

“ _Bonjour mesdames_ ,” he called to the table as he shut the door behind him, “ _comment pui…_ ”

He’d started to walk towards where Lena and Emily waited when he’d realized there was a third woman in the room, and his jaw dropped as she had turned to face him, the light from the windows illuminating her features.

“ _Amélie_ ,” Bernard breathed, his eyes going wide, “ _tu…tu es vivante? Oh mon dieu, Amélie, tu es VIVANTE!”_

Before she could respond to his shocked cry, her cousin took two long, almost leaping strides across the floor before seizing her in a fierce hug, tears coming to his eyes. He held onto her as if she was a phantom who might disappear, whispering her name in disbelief over and over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment puis-je vous aider? - How may I help you?
> 
> Bonjour, je pourrais parler à Bernard s'il vous plait? - Hello, may I speak to Bernard, please?
> 
> Si vous voulez bien patienter un instant, il est dehors - Just a moment, he's outside.
> 
> Everything else should be pretty obvious from the context. 
> 
> (For the record, the Museum of the World's Marionettes is in Lyon, and their website and signage is all blues and purples. One of those strange coincidences that just flowed perfectly when I was looking for things to do in the city.)


	25. Miracles, Wisdom, and Horses

After their tearful reunion, Bernard had closed the vineyard for the day so there would be no accidental interruptions from well-meaning customers, then had them all join him at the table, sending the young woman who had greeted them (his daughter, Henriette, who had just started secondary school when Amélie had seen her last!) into the cellar for several bottles.

“They would not tell us what happened to you,” Bernard explained in English for Emily and Lena’s benefit, “so we always assumed the worst. That you had been killed along with Gérard, or perhaps taken somewhere by Talon afterwards and then…” He shrugged, letting the silence fill in the rest. “We tried to hold out hope, but it was hard.”

Amélie squeezed Lena’s hand. “Overwatch was never good about admitting their mistakes. That has changed, but…”

Lena sighed. “I know. God, I know.”

Bernard nodded. “So they are back, then? There had been rumors, even here.”

Lena coughed. “Ah…very unofficially. But we’re trying.”

The winemaker nodded. “I will not ask details – I am sure it is better if I do not know.” They talked of the vineyard a bit, and Amélie admitted she had learned of her father’s passing before Henriette returned with a set of bottles, then gave Amélie a very brief, uncertain hug before leaving again.

“You have to forgive Henriette,” Bernard explained, “she barely remembers you, I’m afraid.”   
  
“The last time I saw her,” Amélie admitted, “she was…ten, I think. Perhaps even younger. I do not blame her. It is…” She went quiet, and Emily gently put a hand on her arm. “My memories are not always reliable. It has been…difficult.”

Bernard nodded as he carefully cut away the heavy wax seal from a bottle. “But you are here now, and that is what matters.” The cork came next, and he took a little sniff before handing it over, pouring a beautiful golden-hued wine into glasses for them. “This was our last pressing of a true Grand Cru – _pinot gris_ , with the noble rot.” He passed a glass to each of them, and Amélie savored the rich, sweet smell. “We harvested the grapes just before you disappeared. We have produced some decent vintages since, but nothing so fine as this.” Bernard took a moment to enjoy the aroma of his own glass. “Perhaps this year, we shall have a worthy crop again.”

Emily smiled. “A good omen, then?”

“The best.” Bernard agreed with a smile as he raised his glass, “ _Santé.”_

Amélie took a sip of the wine. Sweet and spicy, with a certain touch of something like honey. A wonderful flavor.

She couldn’t help but smile just a bit more. If this _was_ a sign…well. Perhaps returning to her roots had been the right decision after all.

* * *

When Bernard had learned they were staying at a hotel in town, he’d immediately offered his hospitality instead.

“This is your home, Amé. And your,” he grinned over at Emily and Lena, “ _girlfriends_ , too. How did you get so lucky as to collect _two_ lovely women?”

Emily shrugged. “The universe owed her a few good turns, after all was said and done.”

That got a good laugh out of him. “I suppose it did. Still, please, stay a while. There’s a guest house here, and you had a standing invitation, you know.”

After she’d agreed, Emily had offered to take Lena and collect their belongings from the hotel – it hadn’t been hard to figure out that she wanted to give Amélie a little time to speak with her cousin privately after Bernard had offered to show her the guest house and to give her a short tour of the vineyard.

“Not much has changed,” he admitted to her as they walked, “but we can see how much you recognize.”

Amélie nodded, her nervousness reduced in some ways, but stronger in others. “It may be very little, I’m afraid.”

Her cousin shrugged. “Then you will have a chance to discover it again, mm?”

She couldn’t help but laugh, a bit of disbelief in her voice. “You are taking this very well.”

Bernard turned to face her, his face going serious. “I can accept quite a lot if it means that someone we thought dead has returned to us.” He reached out to take her hand. “Your skin…your eyes…they _are_ different. But it is still _you_.”

Tears began to fill her eyes again as she looked down at their linked hands. “For a very long time I didn’t…I was not certain that was still true. ‘Amélie Lacroix’ was just a name to me…and I had lost ‘Amélie Meunier’ entirely.”

“Then I thank God for your Emily and your Lena, and anyone else who helped you find yourself again.” Bernard was smiling through his own tears, not bothering to stop them from flowing. “Your father never gave up hope, you know. He believed that someday you’d come home…I have to admit that after he passed, I lost faith, without him to keep the hope alive. When I saw you this morning, it was a miracle.” He laughed softly. “Perhaps an odd miracle, and one with a painful birth, but I don’t intend to question it.”

Amélie looked away. “I did…many things you would not be pleased with, I think.”

Bernard gave her a searching look. “Did you have a choice?”

She considered everything she’d been through at Talon’s hands. Conditioning. Programming. Training. All that Emily, Lena, and even Sombra had said when discussing her past as Widowmaker, and finally closed her eyes with a sigh. “No…not truly. Not while Talon had me under their control.”

Bernard nodded. “Would you have done these things, otherwise?”

She shook her head slowly.

“I’m not a priest, Amélie. I can’t absolve you of any sins you feel you committed. But if you were forced into doing these things, and do not plan to return to them…they are in your past. Let them lie there. Turn the ground over, and let the seeds of the new start you have been planting grow. Don’t let your fears over that past choke them out.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Spoken like a true farmer.”

Bernard laughed, and gave her another hug. “I cannot be anything else, can I?”

Amélie laughed as she returned the embrace, feeling more of the knots she’d twisted inside of herself ease. “No, I suppose not. But my memory _must_ be poor – I do not remember you being so wise.”

Her cousin snorted. “Having a teenage daughter helped. Where do you think I came by all these white hairs? Now – here, let’s go to the barn. I can show you the barrel aging, and the horses. Do you still ride?”

“…I suppose we shall have to find out.”

* * *

In her lifetime, Lena Oxton had commanded some of the most powerful machines crafted by human hands.

She’d flown four times faster than the speed of sound.

She’d shattered reality itself.

She’d managed to find her way home from a mind-bending journey outside of both time and space, and somehow ended up with two of the smartest and most beautiful women in London as her girlfriends.

Her best friend was a _gorilla from the moon._

Yet none of that had prepared her for the challenge she was now facing.

“You _cannot_ be serious.” Staring up into the large, dark eyes of a chestnut colored horse, Lena shook her head. “Me. On that. No. This is not happening.”

Emily chuckled from somewhere behind her. “Why not? It’s a gorgeous day, we didn’t have anything else planned, and it’s good exercise. We can visit a few of the other vineyards and take a picnic lunch with us.”

Lena turned away from the beast to give Emily a skeptical look. “Good exercise.”

“Absolutely.” Emily took down a helmet from the pegs that had been installed on one wall of the barn, tested the fit, and then tightened the straps. “Fresh air, getting outside for a while…”

Lena considered that, then nodded. “You know, you’re absolutely right. So _I_ can walk and you two can –”

“Lena,” Amélie interrupted firmly, “it will not be that bad.”

Lena backed away from the enormous horse Amélie brought with her, its shoulders even with the top of the woman’s head. It seemed round as a barrel and she wondered how a person even rode such a huge animal. She retreated further from the assembling group as Amélie hitched her horse in the center alley.

On her other side, Emily was industriously using some sort of round brush on the grey coloured one – Nuage, if she remembered right – to break away the mud in her coat. Lena looked back to where she’d been standing, watching as the bay pawed at the sawdust lining her stall, thick forelocks obscuring her eyes. If nothing else, being dwarfed by the other two horses made her assigned mount seem more…manageable.

She gave both of her girlfriends another dubious look. “You both seem much more confident about this than you should. When was the last time either of you even _rode_ a horse?”

Amélie shrugged. “I spent some time refreshing my skills while you were back at the hotel. Apparently some things you do not forget.”

“It’s been a while for me,” Emily admitted, “but Amélie is right, sweet. You really don’t. I spent most of my teenage years riding.”

Lena scoffed nervously. “You grew up in Coventry. You had all the green belt…stuff. I was spending most of my teenage years in Shoreditch learning how to steal cars.”

“Is _that_ how you joined the military at such a young age, _ma douce?”_ Amélie smirked. “How interesting. But there really is no need to be so nervous.”

Lena winced. “There really is. I mean…they’re _big_ and they _smell_ and there’s…you know… _poop_.”

“The fearless and famous Tracer,” Amélie cooed with amusement, “bested by a _horse_.”

Lena crossed her arms across her chest. “It’s _not_ funny.”

Emily chuckled. “It really is.” Taking a large comb, she walked to the stall and put her hand up against the mare’s neck, then took a bit of the black mane in hand and began to brush it out as she spoke to the animal. “She’s such a big bad fighter pilot, you know. Jumps off buildings for fun! But she’s _scared_ of little old you. Isn’t that just silly?”

“Bernard assured me that Agnes is the gentlest mare he keeps here,” Amélie agreed, “and she is very well broken in. Perfect for someone who has never ridden before.”

“You’ll have a helmet, and your accelerator.” Emily took another chunk of Agnes’ mane in hand. “Worst case if you feel like you’re going to fall, just pop off. But she’s a sweetheart – I can tell. You’ll do fine.” She gave Lena a dangerous little smile. “After all, it’s not the first time you’ve been astride.”

Lena coughed, flushing with embarrassment. “I’m not getting out of this, am I?”

“ _Non._ ” Amélie approached with a hair net in one hand and a helmet in the other. “But if you would relax, _chérie_ , you might manage to enjoy it. Just wrap your legs around her and you will be fine.”

Lena pursed her lips, waving a hand toward Bisou’s head. “We are discussing horses, right?”

The chestnut jerked his head up, yanking on his ties.

“Lena,” Emily warned quietly. “Don’t wave your hands around. Don’t dart around and always use your inside voice.”

“I wasn’t –” Lena cut herself off. Both women were frowning at her and Bisou snorted loudly in protest of her volume. Glancing down, she realized that the chestnut animal’s hoof was as wide around as the core of the array at the center of her accelerator, and froze. “Oh fuck me, that’s bloody huge,” she whispered in horror.

“Lena,” Amélie said, drawing her attention with a light hand on her shoulder. “They have no malice, _ma_ _petite chou_. But they are like easily startled children.”

“Children,” Lena asked nervously, “that weigh as much as a car?”

Emily chuckled. “Only about five hundred kilos for Bisou and a little less for Nuage here,” she said absently, shaking her head in exasperation at the mud still caked onto the ostensibly grey horse. “This will go faster if you help groom,” she added pointedly. “Adelyn will be here soon and you’ll need to be saddled up for your primer.”

Lena blinked as she tried to follow everything that Emily had just said. “Wait. My _what?”_

Emily looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “You didn't think we were going to toss you up and there and laugh, did you?”

Lena fidgeted slightly, looking away. She _hadn’t_ , but then they’d both started to gang up and drag her into this…

Emily came out so she could gently draw Lena’s chin up to meet her gaze, her voice softening. “Lena, I would never put you in danger like that as a joke, you know me better than that. I loved riding when I was younger but horses are dangerous, excitable, and a bit dumb. I would be showing you the basics myself, but I never handled gaited horses and I don’t want to accidentally mislead you.”

“Gaited?” Lena asked, obediently responding to the tug on her shoulder, following Emily over to the reddish-brown mare’s side.

“Horses that have a special way of walking or running,” Emily supplied, handing her a dirty, round brush. It was plastic and covered in nubbins instead of bristles, with a strap on the back that went over her hand. “It’ll make her easier for you to ride. Now, do what I do.”

Emily took her own brush and scrubbed it in tight circles over the horse’s back and side, kicking up dust and hairs. Agnes would occasionally shift her weight or try to sidle away and Emily would respond with a threatening growl or sharp exclamation, a nonsense sound of warning.

After some close observation, during which Agnes did not jump around, bite, or do anything but droop her head and swish her tail, Lena stepped in closer. She lightly laid her free hand on the horse’s shoulder and the skin twitched as if Agnes felt a fly. A motion to her side made Lena gasp and she looked to find the mare eyeing her.

“Did I do something wrong?” she whispered.

Instead of Emily, she heard Amélie’s warm purr of laughter. “No. She is curious and you tickled her.”

Lena slowly turned to reply, only to have the words die on her lips when she discovered Amélie had pressed her entire body to Bisou's chest. Her arm was stretched under his neck, her fingers just visible in his mane. The horse had turned his head to press into her chest and the world’s deadliest sniper was making kissy noises at his face.

“Such a good boy,” Amélie crooned, scratching at the broad white stripe on Bisou’s forehead. “Precious little thing,” she continued, before lapsing into French as she babbled.

Lena blinked, utterly confounded at the slight, then checked to see what Emily thought of it all, gasping softly at what she saw.

Emily was tickling Agnes on her mouth, the horse flapping her lips and engulfing the woman's hand as if to swallow the entire thing. Lena got as far as shifting her weight to rescue her girlfriend when Emily put up a hand to freeze her in place.

“Shhhh,” she warned gently. “No sudden moves. We're in a stall and if she feels trapped by the lead rope…well. It's why the door is open. It’s like Amé said, they’re not mean, but they are prey animals and humans are predators to them. We always need to be considerate of their fears. Look, see?” She held up her other hand, which was quite intact aside from being covered in horse slobber. “All she did was feel my hand for treats.”

“Right…ok. That’s still gross, though.” Lena glanced to check that, yes, Amélie was still snogging her horse and sighed with a mix of fondness and revulsion. “You're both disgusting, you know.”

“You didn’t complain nearly so much when we were putting things in _your_ mouth,” retorted Amélie with a wicked smile, changing up her position so she could start to pull burrs out of Bisou's mane. “You big idiot, rolling around in the briars,” she said fondly, dismissing Lena’s extremely visible embarrassment to focus on the gelding.

Emily rolled her eyes and carefully gestured towards the other side of the stall. “Take a breath before you spontaneously combust, sweet, then try brushing her other side.”

Following Emily's pointing finger, Lena walked behind Agnes to her other side and tried again. After a few circles, she realized it was similar to hand-waxing a car, except she could feel the heat radiating off the horse's body. Agnes would lean into the strokes and Lena eventually found that she was keeping her other hand on the horse to check for bunching muscles. Once done, she handed Emily the brush back with satisfaction, but instead of being told job done, Emily raised a large bristle brush and smiled gleefully. Shoulders slumping with resignation, Lena got to work on brushing, but drew the line on picking out the hooves.

“I'm not sure I see the fun in this,” Lena admitted once she’d finished making her way out of the stall, carefully attempting to avoid any suspicious looking clumps of mud.

Emily kissed her forehead. “Think of it as a pre-flight check. Those are pretty boring too, right?”

Lena shrugged. “Yeah, but I _know_ how those work and they’re _clean._ Right now I’m half filthy and I’m not sure I want to see whatever Ame’s doing over there.”

Emily glanced over at the pair and her eyes sparkled with glee as she grinned, then chuckled malevolently. After a second, Amélie's equally nefarious laughter joined hers.

Lena looked nervously over at Emily from the corner of her eye. “What?”

Emily smiled much too innocently. “You should look.”

Lena groaned. “Oh, no. If you're both laughing like that, it can't be good.”

Amélie snorted. “Bisou, you silly boy! She is not interested, and you are upsetting Nuage.”

Giving into her curiosity with dread, Lena looked. The view was actually better than she expected, given that it was mostly Amélie’s nicely sculpted backside in the rather tight jeans she’d chosen for riding. Watching her work to groom the top of the larger horse’s rump was _nice_ , she supposed but Lena didn’t see any obvious cause for all the amusement until Emily gave a little cough.

Amélie stepped to the side, gesturing towards Bisou’s belly, and Lena couldn't help the way her jaw dropped with a horrified groan. She had never seen such an enormous cock dangling loosely toward the floor. She was grateful that none of her Overwatch teammates were present to hear the her squawk like a ninny, the noise quickly drowned out by her girlfriends’ laughter.

“Oh,” Amélie said breathlessly, a hand to her chest as she struggled to regain her composure. “I wish we had recorded that.”

“That was _horrible.”_ Lena turned to make sure she was facing well away from where Bisou stood in the aisle. “You are _both_ terrible. Please tell me you didn’t make him do that just to rile me up?”

“No,” Emily assured her after one last chuckle, “it’s pretty normal for a gelding to drop like that whenever there’s a mare nearby, or another horse he’s trying to display dominance towards. It just happens.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “And you didn’t warn me because…?”

“Mostly,” Amélie smirked, “because it was very funny.” Before Lena could reply or Amélie could tease any further, a sound made her straighten up and turn towards the door. “ _Tiens!_ ”

“ _Salute_ ,” an unfamiliar woman's voice came in greeting, followed by a rapid string of French as she spoke with Amélie.

Lena poked her head out of the stall to see a middle-aged woman in a t-shirt, jeans and ballcap, who pinned Lena with an expectant look.

“And you are Lena? I am Adelyn,” she said, without giving her time to answer. “I see you have her ready. I will get tack and we will get you into the ring.” The woman pivoted, then disappeared again before Lena could do more than blink at her.

“Uh…hi?” Lena offered lamely to the disappearing farmhand’s back, Amélie giving her an indulgent look.

Ten minutes later, Lena was sitting on a horse and being quizzed on what she knew about riding, which worked out to ‘absolutely nothing’ before Adelyn ran her through the basics of walking, turning and stopping.

All of it seemed to involve shoving on the horse with her legs rather than pulling on the reins until it came to an emergency halt, but Lena was nothing if not an attentive student and found herself dealing with something called a tölt, which seemed to be walking faster…and then even faster. By the end of the lesson, she had begun to hate hearing the phrases ‘breath’, ‘chin up’, ‘heels down’ and ‘thumbs up!’

She’d just started to feel like she might become comfortable until Adelyn led Lena, still mounted on Agnes, out of the practice arena. Approaching where her girlfriends and their horses waited, the stable-hand reached up and patted her on her knee. “Good, good. You will live.”

“Wait, what, whoa!” Lena protested as the woman began to depart.

“Stop confusing Agnes,” Emily scolded from the ground, holding Nuage’s reins. “Here, just relax and I’ll lead you outside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincere thanks and only mild exasperation to KKGlinka, who beta read this chapter and immediately began to tell me everything I was getting wrong about horses and horsemanship. :) Any mistakes that remain are all on me.
> 
> For those curious about the stable:
> 
> Agnes: Aegidienberger, light bay, star, mare, 13h 52”  
> Bisou: Postier Breton, chestnut w/flaxen, large blaze, gelding, 16h 64”  
> Nuage: Selle Français, dapple gray, white face, gelding, 17h 68”


	26. Racing Home

Once Amélie and Emily had joined Lena on horseback, they started with a slow circuit of the vineyard, then visiting a few of the neighboring properties before following the horse trails that lead up the wooded hillside to the ruined castle.

There was a moment where they came around the edge of the castle’s keep, and the valley stretched out below them in a breathtaking vista. Ribeauville tucked down below, the Meunier vineyards, a few neighboring farms, and the remnants of other old castles and forts sitting atop the opposite hillsides.

“I _do_ want to go back to London eventually,” Emily admitted as they took a moment to appreciate the view, “but I could get used to this.”

“It’s amazing,” Lena agreed, “but I think I’m a bit too much of a city girl to spend the whole year out this way.”

“Mm. Still, it’s a lovely holiday.”   
  
“Yeah, absolutely.” Lena turned to where Amélie was looking out at the valley. “Was it like this when you were a girl, luv? Horseback rides and all that?”

Amélie was quiet for a moment, then shrugged with a noncommittal noise. Lena carefully attempted to maneuver Agnes a bit closer to her, while Emily’s head came around with a concerned expression.

Agnes responded to Lena’s attempt to steer by turning in a half circle before laying her ears back at Bisou, who sidled further away. Meanwhile, Emily did one of her fancy things that didn't seem to involve moving a muscle on her part even though Nuage neatly pivoted and did several side-steps closer to the other two riders.

Suppressing a frown of disappointment, Lena had given up on getting close enough to Amélie for any physical contact, when she saw the woman's leg move incrementally. Bisou backed up slightly, shifting closer to Agnes, but this time Lena was ready for her mare’s hostility.

“No,” she warned her horse sharply, with a light yank on one side of the reins.

A soft huff of laughter drew her gaze up to meet Amélie's eyes which, despite her amusement, were warm with approval. But the humor faded into a pensive blankness as she returned her gaze to the countryside.

“Hey…” Lena leaned to the side enough to lay her hand on top of Amélie's thigh, relieved when Agnes only shifted the barrel of her body to compensate, rather than stepping away from Bisou. “Is something wrong, Amé?”

“Memories,” Amélie began to explain, then stopped again, “and…something else. I need to find the right words.”

“That’s alright,” Emily assured her, then turned Nuage so they could continue on. “Why don’t we find a good spot to unpack lunch, and when you’re ready you can tell us what’s on your mind.”

While Emily rearranged tack and tied the horses along a copse of trees, Amélie and Lena spread out fruit, cheese, bread, chicken, and some eggs on a blanket that Henriette had packed in their saddlebags. They ate companionably for a few minutes while the horses grazed, before Amélie took them back to part of their earlier conversation.

“So. Stealing cars, _chérie?”_

Lena coughed nervously. “Well. Stealing is an ugly word, innit? Maybe better to stay…borrowing? Mostly.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Exactly how many of them did you put back when you were finished, sweet?”

Lena stuck her tongue out. “Did you both decide to gang up on me today?”

“I’m just curious,” Amélie objected innocently, “it’s very interesting to learn more about your…colorful…childhood.”

“Hazing a new rider is pretty traditional,” Emily admitted, “and you _did_ invite it a bit with the way you were acting.”   
  
Lena grumbled under her breath as she took a bite of her chicken, then took a sip from a bottle of water before she looked over to where Amélie watched her, her chin resting on her hand. “I told you – in and out of trouble a lot, when I was younger. Some of that trouble was learning a bit about how to boost cars. We’d usually just go for a ride around the neighborhood – and I _did_ return them where I could, thank you – but some were a bit nastier about it. I didn’t spend a lot of time with that lot.”

Amélie hummed softly, raising an eyebrow. “And _did_ that have something to do with your military service?”

Lena chuckled. “What, in front of the judge and go to the Service or go to the dock? Nah. That’s for the movies.” She grinned. “I may not have been able to break the laws of physics back then, but I still was a pretty good sprinter. I never got nicked back in those days, at least not for that.”

Emily smirked. “But you _did_ get caught for a few other things.”

Lena ducked her head. “Ahhh…once or twice. Mostly just for getting in a scrap here and there. Y’know. School fights and the like. Never had to go face charges or anything.”

Amélie's eyes glittered fondly. “Standing up for those who could not defend themselves, I suspect.”

Emily leaned over, kissing Lena’s cheek. “That _does_ sound very familiar.”

“Well,” Lena admitted with a grin, “maybe a few times.”

They’d gone back to finishing their lunch before Amélie finally shared what she’d been turning over.

“I have been glad to…reconnect with myself. With Bernard and his family, and to regain more of what Talon took from me. I have enjoyed being here, but I do not want to stay permanently.”

Emily tilted her head slightly. “I didn’t mean to suggest we had to, angel.”

Amélie nodded to her, a bit of relief in her eyes. “Part of me wondered if I might wish to. I remembered being happy here…I _have_ been happy here. But when you spoke of going back to London, I started to think of staying here without you, and I realized I missed going to the tea shop with Lena. I miss visiting the dance studio. I miss talking on the balcony, and I miss _lemon bars_ …”

Lena slid over so she could wrap her arms around Amélie’s waist, while Emily did the same from the other side. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to go home again, luv.”

“Home.” Amélie closed her eyes and smiled. “Perhaps I do know where it is, after all.”

Emily leaned her head against Amélie’s shoulder. “An apartment with a terrible kitchen?”

Lena grinned. “Don’t forget a couch that’s put up with an awful lot of abuse.”

Amélie sighed happily, then lightly kissed each of them in turn. “And you. More than anything else…it has both of you.”

“No,” Lena corrected her, “it has all of us, Amé. Because it wouldn’t be home for us without _you_ , now.”

“Well.” Emily grinned after she’d mounted back up. “Now that’s settled…care to canter a bit before we ride into town?”

As much as she loved a hard race on foot or behind the wheel, Lena was shaking her head before either woman checked in her direction. Getting the horse going fast in an enclosed pen was one thing, but out here, she had no faith in her ability to keep Agnes going in a straight line. She expected more ribbing, perhaps about how the daredevil Tracer was afraid of a little run, but Emily aimed her fierce grin at Amélie instead.

Nuage arched his neck, prancing sideways with a snort as Emily held the other woman's eyes in challenge. “In that case, angel…think your goliath can keep up?”

Amélie narrowed her eyes, patting Bisou on his shoulder. “The Postier’s were bred for speed, _ma belle_.”

Emily pouted down at Nuage as if the horse had understood that little dig. “Did you hear that, sweetie? I do believe she just called you _slow_ ,” she said in feigned offense before growing conspiratorial. “Maybe if you run His Roundship there into the ground, Agnes will stop kicking you.”

“That was only once!” Lena protested. “And I didn't know she would!”

“Lena, you must act as a judge,” Amélie declared, raising her chin in a mock glower at Emily. “Bisou must defend his honor.”

“Then it’s decided,” Emily said in agreement. “Mind keeping an eye on us, sweet?”

“I'm not going,” she refused adamantly. “I know you said I could blink off if something goes wrong but Adelyn said I shouldn't scare them like that and –”

“Lena,” Amélie interrupted soothingly. “We enjoy…” she hesitated a moment, glancing at Emily, “ruffling your feathers?” When she received a nod of confirmation, she continued: “Especially with how you respond.” The look in her golden eyes made Lena’s face heat, and she relaxed a bit, letting go of her defensiveness. “It is as Emily said. We would never put you in danger, _chérie."_

“You and Agnes stay here while Amélie and I head to the bottom of the hill. Once we're at a safe distance, we'll have some fun, then come back up to you. There shouldn’t be anything to worry about, but if…” Emily trailed off, growing serious. “ _If_ anything happens, we have you to watch out for us. Don't worry about the horses; just fetch help.”

Lena frowned thoughtfully. “So…just keep track of who wins, and go for help if anything happens?”

Amélie nodded. “Just so.”

Lena took a deep breath and forced herself to relax as Nauge and Bisou paced each other at a canter, making a wide circuit of the field below. She was still feeling a bit of nerves at watching the two of them getting ready to race, if she was honest, but they really did both seem to have things under control.

_I think I’m starting to understand how Em feels when we go play tag – or when I’m off with Winston and the lads._

Emily soon pulled ahead, her leaner horse clearly possessing a power to weight advantage. At which point, Amélie cut across the field to try and head off her opponent and force Nuage against a line of bushes. It might have worked except Emily wheeled her horse around straight at the bushes and the two sailed over the de facto barrier with ease. Amélie’s curse of outrage carrying up the hill as Bisou balked at doing the same.

Lena sucked in a breath at the sight of Emily jumping her horse over the obstacle, tensing enough that it spurred Agnes into walking forward, and was occupied by reining in her mount when Emily's peal of laughter traveled up to them.

“Oh, that _has_ to be payback for…something…” Lena shook her head. “Pretty sure there’s no question who won, though, is there?”

Agnes didn't seem to have much of an opinion.

She could see Amé turning to head up the hill with such a put out expression that she couldn’t help but laugh a little, while Emily beamed at them both as she brought Nuage around at a more sedate pace. Emily said something that Lena was too far away to hear, but she could see Amélie’s shoulders rise with a laugh in response.

Lena still didn’t think she was going to be trying to race – let alone jump! – anytime soon, but she could get used to seeing her girlfriends smiling and laughing like that.

They spent the rest of the afternoon riding down around the town, looping back around Ribeauville before eventually making their way to the farm, where Adelyn helped with bringing them into the barn.

“Well,” Lena admitted once she’d dismounted and did her part to help put Agnes up, “I guess I know how to ride a horse now. Sort of.”

“Was it as bad as you feared?” Emily teased.

“Still not used to riding something that has a fit when a bird gets too close,” Lena groused back, but when she saw Emily’s eyes tighten with pain she reached out to put a hand on Emily’s forearm. “Seeing everything was nice. The whole afternoon felt…peaceful? It was slower than it looks in movies or in shows. But,” she qualified, holding out her hands, “I think I feel a bit better with control surfaces that aren’t covered in hair.”

Emily nodded, turning away to hang the bridles on their respective hooks. “I get that.”

Lena quirked a half-smile. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it again.”

Emily was still clearly a bit tense, but Lena could see her expression relax into a faint smile. She tucked her hands into her jean pockets and cocked her head, waiting.

“Horse flies, manure, shenanigans, and all?” Emily challenged lightly.

Lena conceded with a little nod of her head. “I have been known to get awfully filthy in the trenches now and then.”

“I think Lena means a different type of filthy,” Amélie said from where she was supporting the doorframe, arms crossed.

“Yes, I’ve seen the video,” Emily retorted with a smirk, scratching at the back of her neck and pulling free a shaft of hay. She twirled it in front of Lena's nose, then swatted her with it. “So, did Agnes win you over in the end?”

Looking between Emily and Amélie, Lena shook her head. “Not just her, but I could see how much it meant to both of you, and…” She considered exactly how to explain it. “I was enjoying the way you were both enjoying it, and I had fun watching you two go,” she explained, giving the final word a meaningful spin, “I suppose it’s a bit like when you’ve watched us go outside for a game of tag. Even if you did give me a real fright when you jumped over the hedge.”

Emily considered that with a smile, then nodded. “I don’t expect we’ll be buying a horse barn any time soon back home, but we could go out for another ride or two before we leave here, and there are some spots not too far out of town if we wanted to visit for an afternoon.”

“Maybe, yeah.” Lena smiled as they left the barn. “We’ll see – eventually here I suspect Winston will want me to get back to work.”

“True,” Emily admitted, “but it’s nice to have a few ideas for later.”

“Perhaps you could ride with us,” Amélie suggested, “and another time we could take Emily to the black powder range. If nothing else it would offer the chance for her to get _almost_ as dirty.”

Lena considered that, then gave Emily a thoughtful look. “You might just like that, actually. What do you think, pet?”

Emily hummed thoughtfully. “Aside from the dart guns, shooting has never really been something I wanted to do – but if you’re trying riding as much for how we’re enjoying it, I think I can try going to the range to see the two of you enjoying it.”

Amélie smiled as they began to head for the guest house. “If nothing else, you might enjoy watching Lena taking aim.”

Lena blinked. “Why…?”

Emily grinned. “Yes, do tell.”

“She wiggles her bottom when she concentrates.”

“ _Ooo._ Yes, please!”

“Oh, I do _not_.”

“It is _very_ cute, _ma coeur._ ”

Lena coughed. “Well…when you put it that way…”


	27. That Which We Are, We Are

“No, seriously luv, the point of trying to lay low is _that it’s hard to find us_. That’s sort of the whole idea.”

Amélie watched as Lena paced back and forth across the guesthouse living room, her phone in one hand, the other swinging back and forth in broad gestures as she spoke.

“I mean you liked the pictures, right? _Thank you!_ I thought they were really cute, too. But, yeah, that was from a week ago. We’ve moved around a bit.” She paused, listening to the response. “Well, I’m glad to hear things have been pretty good while I’ve been out. I _do_ plan to get back to work once we’re sure the heat’s off of Em in London.” Lena smile turned a bit wistful. “I miss you guys, but it’s been nice to spend some time just being us.” She looked over to where Amélie was watching her from the couch. “It’s been good for all of us, I think.”

Amélie couldn’t help but smile back.

Lena stopped as whomever she was speaking to – Winston, Amélie assumed – asked a question, and her eyes turned thoughtful. “Huh. Well…that would be nice. I think you’d like it out here. But you _are_ a bit conspicuous, luv.” She went still again as she listened to the gorilla’s reply, then nodded. “I tell you what – let me see what the girls think, and I can call you back in a bit? Brilliant. Cheers!”

Lena hung up her phone, and put it back into her pocket, then walked over to settle down on the couch. “Winston says hello. Em go out to the winery?”

Amélie nodded. “Bernard offered to show her the press they use for the crush and vats for the fermenting.”

“Oh, neat. When is the next harvest, anyway? That would be fun to see."

“Likely August – it depends on the weather and the…” Amélie tried to remember the English word for a moment, then gave up with a little shake of her head. “The _brix_ – the sweetness in the grape.”

“Aw. I think it would be fun to watch you and Em stomping on a bunch of grapes to help make the wine, but hopefully we’ll be back home by then – I like the idea, but not enough to want to stay a couple extra months.”

Amélie snorted. “That is for the movies – the press does most of the work.” Her smile turned a bit sly. “For someone who dislikes messes so much, you certainly enjoy thinking of Emily and I making them.”

Lena grinned, her voice growing soft as she leaned in for a kiss. “Well…it depends on what sort of mess it is, doesn’t it?”

Amélie chuckled as she returned the kiss, her fingers coming up to tangle in Lena’s hair. “I suppose it might.” Letting Lena curl into her, she lightly pressed a kiss to her forehead, but forced herself to follow up with the conversation she’d overheard rather than get diverted too easily. “So – there was something you needed to ask us?”

“Mm, yeah…” Lena raised her head so they could have eye contact, taking the opportunity to kiss to point of her chin before going on. “That was Winston – he was a little concerned because I hadn’t done much checking in. He usually likes to hear how I’m doing and how the accelerator is holding up even when I’m not popping in and out of the office every so often.”

Amélie felt a sudden pang of concern when Lena mentioned the accelerator. “I hadn’t considered it might need regular maintenance if you were not fighting.

“It’s not having any issues right now,” Lena assured her, “but never hurts to be careful. Anyway…he was asking about the possibility of coming out this way to have a look, rather than the three of us trying to head to Gibraltar – or for me to go on my own, for that matter.”

She closed her eyes and took a breath to settle herself again before she replied. “Mm. I see why you were concerned about him being distinctive. I am sure Bernard and his family would not betray his arrival to anyone, but it would be difficult to arrive in an aircraft without it being noticed – and Ribeauville is not a large city.”

Lena nodded. “There’s two options – either they could try to do some kind of a stealth landing near the vineyard, or to bring an Orca in near Colmar, and sneak Winston up here in a truck or van – we’ve done that before when we needed to move covertly in an urban environment.”

Amélie frowned thoughtfully. “The latter seems a bit safer for continuing to keep our whereabouts fairly secret. The transport could be spotted quite easily here. But in that case…who would drive the truck?”

Lena sighed, and her voice took on a slightly nervous edge. “Well, that’s the _other_ thing…”

* * *

Emily watched as the boxy van made its way up through the vineyard’s gate, turning towards where she waited at the front door of the guest house and finding a good spot to park.

Once the engine had shut off, she went around to the back of the van and popped open the doors with a smile, retreating a few steps so that Winston could make his way out with a heavy looking bag of tools and equipment strapped to his back. “Welcome to Alsace!”

“Hello, Emily! It’s lovely to be here.” Rolling his neck and popping his shoulders a bit once he reached the ground, Winston looked around the vineyard. “This is quite a picturesque setting.”

Emily came in for a proper hug, giving a happy little sigh after they disengaged. Few people appreciated how comforting a 250kg gorilla could be. “It is, isn’t it? Absolutely the last place I ever would have thought to visit before this all started…but I’m very glad we found ourselves here.”

Winston chuckled as they began to head around the side of the van. “It’s fascinating how a small event can have such far reaching consequences.” Before he could go on, the driver’s door popped open, and a moment later a casually dressed Angela Ziegler swung herself out of the seat.

“Good afternoon, Emily. It’s lovely to see you again!”

Emily shook the offered hand, not quite knowing the Swiss woman well enough to warrant hugging. “And you, doctor. How was the drive?”

“Very interesting. It’s been years since I visited this area, and I’d never been to Ribeauville before.” Angela looked towards where the trellises of grape vines could be seen stretching out up towards the hilltop. “Perhaps I’ll need to bring a few bottles back with me to mark the occasion.”

“I’m sure Bernard – Amé’s cousin – would be happy to recommend a few vintages.”

Winston smiled at that, but Emily noticed how Angela tensed just slightly, the lines around her eyes tightening.

“If I may ask…where is she? And for that matter, where is Lena? I’m shocked she hasn’t ambushed either of us by now.”

Emily coughed as she lead them into the living room of the guest house. “Amélie went for a ride once we got your message that you were on your way. She…thought it might be best if you had time to give Lena her check up without feeling like she was intruding.”

Winston frowned. “On the one hand, I do appreciate her willingness to accommodate us, but with this being her family’s home…” A sigh rumbled out from him as he took the bag from his back and started to unpack what he would need to examine the accelerator while Angela gave Lena a thorough checkup. “I don’t like thinking that we’ve made her feel unwelcome here.”

Angela busied herself with the contents of her own bag rather than offer an opinion in either direction.

“As to Lena,” Emily continued, “she went to help Amé get saddled up and settled, and she was going to be back any ti –”

“ _WIIIIINSTON!”_

Lena appeared in a flash of light, using the momentum of her teleport to fling herself in the air for a hug, her feet dangling well off the ground as she wrapped her arms around Winston’s neck. “So good to see you, luv!”

Winston laughed, bringing an arm up to support her and return the embrace. “It’s been a while. Have you enjoyed your vacation?”

“It’s been a…heh…real trip, yeah.” Lena let Winston lower her to the ground, then turned to give Angela a slightly less acrobatic but still heartfelt hug. “Hullo to you too, Angie!”

Angela’s earlier good humor seemed to have been restored by the warm embrace. “Lena! Emily said you’ve taken up horseback riding?”

Lena coughed and rubbed at the back of her head. “That’s…one way to put it.”

Emily smirked. “What she means is that Amélie and I have been enjoying riding, and she has been attempting to endure the ordeal.”

Lena stuck out her tongue in response, but didn’t entirely deny it. “It has been a nice way to see the countryside. And like I said after the first ride, I like getting to see you and Amé traipsing around.”

“So you did, sweet.” Emily walked over to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “I think I’m going to go see if Adelyn or Henriette need any help in the barn while they have a look at you.”

“All right, pet. When Amé gets back, maybe we can all have some tea or something.”   
  
Emily snorted. “If by tea you mean wine…” Blowing Lena one last kiss, she left to give her some privacy for the exam.

* * *

Lena wasn’t surprised that not long after Angela and Winston had run through their usual questions on how she was feeling and the accelerator was functioning, the subject turned to more personal matters.

“How much have you been following the news here?”

Lena shrugged to Winston as she settled on the couch and let Angela check her vitals. “Not much, if I’m honest. We haven’t been trying to avoid things, precisely, but between all the travel early on and being out of the way here, we tend not to get things for a day or two.”

Winston gave a thoughtful grunt as he examined the accelerator’s casing. “The money laundering scheme that Emily exposed finally made the news in the last week. From what we’ve been following, several people inside Tyne and Weir were arrested in England and the U.S. and the FBI has been shutting down the various shell companies Talon was using the circulate the money.”

Lena smiled. “Great news – hopefully that means we can get back home soon, then.”

Winston nodded. “I’d expect so. At this point there’s no reason to think the cell you exposed – or the one that Amélie shut down while she was shadowing you – would be in a position to attack Emily again. Anyone who isn’t already dead or under arrest is likely too preoccupied with running for their lives. What’s left of Talon isn’t likely to be pleased about their failures.”

Lena couldn’t help but smile just a little about that. “Yeah, not exactly an outfit you join for the retirement plan, are they?”  

That got an amused snort from both members of her audience, and Lena winked to Angela, who was pretending to be engrossed in timing her pulse.

The doctor released her wrist, then made a few notes on her phone. “Will you be staying in London for a bit after you return home?”

“A few days,” Lena said slowly as she considered that, “but I imagine you’ve got some work waiting for me. I’ll probably just make sure the girls are settled and then get back to the office.” A thought occurred to her and Lena couldn’t help but laugh darkly. “Among other things – I guess we’ll need to find out if Emily still has a job.”

“If for some reason she doesn’t,” Winston observed, “I’m sure she wouldn’t have much trouble finding another. Perhaps even closer to Gibraltar, if you wanted…”

Lena looked sympathetically over to where the scientist was checking readings from the accelerator on his tablet. Even with more and more of the recalled Overwatch team living and working out of Gibraltar these days she knew her friend’s life could be a lonely one.

“It’s a possibility for a holiday – maybe a month or two – but Em and I are both London girls, luv. There’s just too many things we’d get homesick for if we moved entirely. And Amélie…” Lena trailed off as she considered how to explain the conversation they’d had on that first ride. “I think it’s hard for her to consider almost anywhere home, really. But if it’s anywhere, home for her these days would be our flat.”

That got a surprised look from Angela. “I had wondered if she might consider this place her home, now. What family she has left…”

“She likes it here,” Lena explained, “but she doesn’t want to stay forever. It’s been amazing to see how everyone here welcomed her back, but there’s a difference between a place where you’re accepted to a place that’s really home, you know?” Lena considered raising an objection to the ‘family she has left’, too, but decided it was better to let that lie.

Winston returned his tablet to a pocket on his suit. “If I can ask…do you know if she’s considered what her next steps might be?”

“She told me before this all started that she didn’t see herself joining Overwatch, if that’s what you mean. Doesn’t really think of herself as the hero type…” Lena couldn’t help but smile to herself as she thought about all the little ways Amélie’s actions belied her words. “I might disagree, these days, but I honestly don’t know if she’s reconsidered that.”

Winston nodded. “Well…if she ever changes her position, I’d certainly prefer to see her with us than against us again.”

“I appreciate it, luv. If it comes up, I’ll let her know.” Lena felt a sudden lump in her throat, and had to swallow before she could put the rest of her thoughts into words. “But...be honest – would she actually be welcomed? I’m not going to assume that Cap or anyone else would put aside old grudges just because she’s sharin’ a bed with me.” Lena couldn’t help but glance over at Angela, who suddenly seemed engrossed in her notes.

“I think that most of us would make a sincere effort.” Winston crossed the floor and handed back the accelerator with a smile. “I have to admit that it helps that the information she provided you helped us to take out a few more Talon cells. Beyond that…” He shrugged. “Most of the newer members have never met her outside of a handful of battlefield encounters. It will be easier for them, I think.”

“I suppose that’s true…” Lena stood and shrugged the accelerator on, buckling it back up. “Honestly, I think that if you want to make the offer to her, you should. It might mean a lot more to her coming from you than from me.”

Winston gave a thoughtful ‘hmmm’ to that, then nodded. “You have a point.”

“Regardless, maybe just talk to her for a little first before you give her the sales pitch? She’s honestly…” Lena stopped and laughed at herself. “Well. I was about to say ‘not so bad’. But the point is that Amé is a lot more than just _Widowmaker_. She might not be quite the same person she was before…but I’m not quite the same person I was before my accident in the _Slipstream_ , either.”

Both of her friends looked like they needed some time to consider that. Lena decided it was better to let them work through the rest on their own. Smiling, she nodded towards the door. “Why don’t we go down to the big house an’ see what Bernard might be able to do for a drink and a bit of a snack?”

* * *

Despite her uncertainty about their guests, Amélie had enjoyed taking Bisou up into the countryside, riding to the shallow river that ran down to join the larger _Lutzenbach_ closer to the town before making her way back to the vineyard.

To her surprise, when she reached the barn, she was not met by Emily or one of the farmhands, but by Angela Ziegler.

Amélie stiffened slightly despite herself, but took a deep breath and forced herself to relax before raising her hand in a wave. “ _Bonjour._ ”

“Hello.” Angela fidgeted a bit nervously, then nodded towards the pens where Nuage and Agnes were watching them with casual disinterest. “Emily told us how the three of you had taken up riding. I loved horses when I was a little girl, so I thought I might come up to say hello to them.”

“I…think that perhaps you told me that before.” Amélie took her feet from the stirrups and grabbed a handful of Bisou’s mane to help steady herself, then dismounted in one smooth motion, her knees bending to help absorb the shock of her landing. Taking up the reins, she lead the horse into his stall and brought him a waiting bucket of water to busy herself.

“Yes,” Angela admitted after watching them for a moment, “I did.” She looked around the barn, her blue eyes shining with an edge of painful nostalgia. “You told me about this place a few times. About the vineyard, and your trips here when you were younger. How you learned how to ride here.” Angela paused, looking away. “I always thought it sounded wonderful, but we never had a chance to visit.”

Amélie tied Bisou up and walked carefully to the front of the stall so she could make eye contact. “You were my friend, once.”

Angela nodded. “I was, yes. We met shortly before you and Gérard announced your engagement.”

Amélie frowned as she tried to sift through fragmented memories. “We argued about smoking. You came to one of my performances and Gérard took us out for dinner. He had been trying to get me to quit, and thought you would have better luck.”

Angela snorted. “You were smoking the _entire_ time we sat on the patio. I swear you kept going just to get a rise out of me.”

Amélie laughed softly. “I remember being surprised to see you actually show up to my next show."

“I enjoyed watching you dance, and besides – I was still trying to convince you to stop.” Angela smiled nostalgically. “Gérard used to claim that you finally quit as much because of your desire for me to stop annoying you as any actual concern for your health.”

Amélie gave a little shrug. “I cannot say he was wrong.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “Is that why you kept insisting you would ‘bring me back’? Because you could not give up?”

Angela looked away uncomfortably. “With what Talon made you do…what you became…it was easier to let myself believe that the woman I had befriended…the woman I cared about…was no longer there. Or that she had been buried so deeply that there was no chance she…you…were aware of what you had done.”

Amélie closed her eyes, her mouth tightening in pain. “You were wrong.”

“I know that now.” Angela stepped closer, and Amélie opened her eyes again, looking the doctor in the eye. “You were there, Amélie. I was the one who was unwilling to look…and I am sorry.”

Amélie tried to consider what to say in response to that. “The night you nearly captured me…I didn’t want to admit to myself that when you spoke to me as if I was not there, it _hurt._ It made me _angry_. It was if the memory of who I had been was more important to you than who I truly was.” She shook her head and felt her ponytail strike against her back. “It has taken time for me to understand that who I had been was just as important as who I am now. That I can live as both, and not just one or the other.”

Angela’s eyebrows were nearly at the edge of her hairline. “So…what does that mean for you, Amélie?”

“I am not entirely sure I have decided.” Amélie tried a smile. From the look of pleased surprise on Angela’s face, it seemed to fit. “For now, though…” She reached over and picked up one of the brushes, offering it across the gate. “I would not mind some help grooming Bisou before I let him out to the pasture. Would you care to join me?”

Angela took the brush, turning it over in her hands a few times, then unbuttoned the sleeves of her blouse so she could roll them up to her elbows. “I would be delighted – but I may need a bit of a reminder of how to do it properly.”

“I am sure you cannot be worse than Lena was,” Amélie assured her with a chuckle, “but in any event I have had quite a bit of practice lately.”

By the time they had finished grooming the gelding and returned to the house, Bernard had set out an impressive spread of food, along with several more bottles from his private stock.  Amélie wasn’t sure what surprised her more - the fact that Winston had managed to find a way to sit comfortably at the table between Lena and Emily, or that he didn’t really look that out of place as he spread a dollop of tapenade over a chunk of bread, then took a sip from a wineglass that seemed almost comically small in his hand.

As they ate and drank, Amélie listened to a few more stories about how the new Overwatch was coming together, and a few jokes over Lena’s exploits back when she was a newly minted Agent. Later that evening, when Angela and Winston packed themselves back into the van to return home, Amélie was a bit surprised to find herself wishing they could stay just a little longer.

She wasn’t sure that she was actually friends with Angela again, but she felt comfortable saying Mercy wasn’t her enemy any longer. Amélie knew that in her own way, Angela had been through just as many changes over the years…but she thought that she liked the person the doctor had become, now that she no longer had reason to fear her.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but Amélie thought the doctor might be able to like the person she had become, too.


	28. There, and Back Again

As lovely as Ribeauville was, it was still a very small town, and only had so much to do. After nearly three weeks of riding, walking, and dining in the area they had decided it was worth getting into the car and properly spending time in Colmar.

“We’ll probably be able to head home soon,” Lena had observed, “it would be a shame not to see a little more before we do.”

They’d decided to each explore a few different parts of the city that interested them, and made plans to meet back up for a late lunch.

Amélie had gone with Emily to the _Musee Unterlinden_ to explore the architecture and paintings there, particularly appreciating the Picassos, but she’d gone off on her own when Emily had decided to go shopping in the _Marche Couvert_ , not feeling like dealing with the crowds in the historic market.

She’d wandered through the Old Town instead, eventually finding herself walking, fascinated, around a building appropriately known as _La Maison des Têtes_. Nearly every feature and surface was covered in a sculpted face of some kind. Some angelic, some demonic, several with exaggerated features, but others beautifully realistic.

Amélie had begun taking pictures of a few of the heads she liked or that she thought her lovers would enjoy seeing on her phone when she felt an odd sensation of being scrutinized. She slowly, casually turned around as if snapping a few pictures of the surrounding houses. Nothing immediate or obvious. A few other tourists or guests at the nearby hotel wandering the area but none appearing to focus on her or the area where walked.

She had no messages from Emily or Lena about a problem or concern. One text from Henriette saying that she and Bernard were meeting with a wine buyer from America for dinner that evening in Sélestat.

After considering that for a moment, she put the phone back into her pocket and began to walk down to _La Lauche_ , eventually settling down on a bench on the riverside – not terribly far from the _Marche_ , in fact. She wondered if Emily had found anything interesting in her shopping, and was considering sending her a message when she heard a very familiar voice coming from behind her.

“ _Hon hon hon baguette._ ”

Very slowly, Amélie turned her head until she could look back at Sombra, who was in fact holding a paper wrapped baguette in one hand. Instead of her usual outfit, she had donned a navy and cream striped Breton shirt and a set of high waisted trousers with flared legs, and had a beret perched on her head.

She took perhaps ten seconds to consider that entire _ensemble_ before rendering her verdict:  “Your accent is _shit_.”

Sombra stuck out her tongue. “Look, it was that or _omelette du fromage_. I haven’t eaten anything except bread and eggs for _three days_ , Ami!”

Amélie stood, shaking her head, and then stepped forward to hug the hacker. “All you had to do was _call_ , _ombre._ ”

Sombra gave a little sigh as she stepped back. “You guys have been doing a pretty good job of staying under the radar. I wasn’t sure if you’d stayed near Colmar or moved on again until I caught Ziegler renting a van using her credit card.”

“Did you like the pictures?”

“Yeah, actually.” Sombra walked back around to the bench and settled down. “You guys can be awfully cute. I liked the one of you on the bridge best.”

Amélie joined her on the bench with a smile. “That photo was Lena’s idea, but I liked it very much.”

“She’s got a good eye. But she picked up you _and_ the redhead so I shouldn’t be that surprised.” Sombra leaned back and they watched a few boats full of tourists travel up and down the river for a few minutes before she asked her next question in a voice that was just a bit too casual: “So. How’d things go with Ziegler and the monkey?”

“Well enough.” Amélie cocked her head with a little smile. “He really doesn’t like being called that, you know.”

Sombra smirked. “He likes ‘Harambe’ even less – just in case you ever need to annoy him.”

Amélie snorted and shook her head.

“Someone might have arranged for Ziegler to get a complete copy of your medical records out of Talon’s files,” Sombra observed, “just in case.”

Leaning forward, Amélie placed her elbows on her knees, one hand coming up to support her chin as she gazed into the river. “I haven’t decided anything yet.”

“Like I said,” Sombra leaned back on the bench, “just in case.”

They sat, watching the water again while Amélie considered what she wanted to say. “I still don’t think of myself as a hero.”

Sombra chuckled. “Nah. You’re a _survivor_ , Ami. That’s better than being a hero any day.”

“Personally,” Emily offered as she came up behind them, “I consider you a bit of both, angel.”

Amélie felt a blush rise on her cheeks as she smiled, enjoying the expression of surprise on Sombra’s face as she turned around.

“How do you keep _doing_ that?”

Emily grinned. “If I told you, everyone would be able to do it.” Sombra rolled her eyes, and Emily raised her shopping bag. “I found a few things for dinner tonight. Could we convince you to stay, this time?”

Sombra frowned skeptically. “You think you can keep your other girl from going ballistic if I show up?”

“Oh, I think that Amé and I can make sure Lena will behave herself.” Crossing her arms, Emily gave Sombra a determined look. “Besides, if Lena can have some friends up, Amélie can too. It’s only fair.”

Sombra hummed thoughtfully. “I guess that’s true.”

Amélie smirked. “There will be wine…” 

“Well in _that_ case…”

* * *

One thing Lena appreciated as they put together a meal for everyone (including, to Sombra’s great amusement, the baguette she’d bought as a prop) was the significant difference between Bernard and his family saying ‘You’re on your own for dinner’ and what those words had meant when she’d been in the foster system.

Between the groceries that were normally kept in the guest house and things they’d brought in during their visit, they had wine, crackers, four different types of cheese, sausage, cold chicken, pickles, and mustard. Quite a far cry from an empty fridge and the implication that if she wanted something she’d have to beg, barter, or steal for it.

Lena was doing her best to let her enjoyment of the meal and the warmth of having her girlfriends laughing and relaxing with her overtake her long distrust of their guest. To her great surprise, that actually seemed to be working.

The wine probably helped.

Sombra was still a thief, opportunist, and a sneak…but she genuinely had seemed worried about Emily. She’d helped Amélie, in her own way, and she had helped them make it out of London undetected. So Lena would do her best to leave the past behind, at least for tonight.

Besides, if Amé could work on patching up with Angela, the least Lena could do was be nice and not bring tonight down.

The wine was helping quite a bit with that, actually, and after her third (or was this the fourth?) glass she was looking at Sombra as she sat on the other couch, telling some kind of story she wasn’t quite following, and had a sudden thought that sent her giggling so hard that Emily had to reach over and grab the plate of cheese she’d left balanced on her lap before Lena sent it falling to the floor.

“OK,” Sombra raised an eyebrow as she turned to face Lena directly, “I have to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

Lena took a moment to catch her breath so she wouldn’t immediately set herself off again. “It’s your outfit…”

“…what about it?” Sombra tilted her head towards where Amélie was sitting. “I was mostly just trying to get a rise out of her.”

Lena grinned. “Well…since you were going all out…I just realized you really should have drawn on one of those little moustaches with an eyebrow pencil or something.”

That got a little snort out of Emily that nearly set Lena off again, particularly when Sombra groaned and downed the rest of her wineglass in one go, drawing a look of perfect annoyance from Amélie.

“The wine deserved better.”

“Oh, and I didn’t?”

“Mm. Perhaps.”

Lena couldn’t help it, and lost herself in another giggling fit until she could get her breath back. “It would have been _awfully_ cute, though.”

“Well,” Sombra drawled out with a little smirk, “maybe you do have a point. I have to admit I make the beret look good.”

“Oh, it suits you perfectly,” Emily agreed, “though I think Amélie pulls the top off a bit better.”

“It’s the hair,” Sombra conceded, “something about French girls with dark hair in the stripey-shirts just works.”

“Of course it does,” Amélie preened, “we invented the _breton_.”

“I suppose we could see how your girls look in them.” Sombra gave a little wink over to Lena. “Maybe we can see if you rubbed off on them.”

Amélie snorted, the glittering in her eyes indicating more amusement – and tipsiness – than jealousy. “Mine. _Ne touchez pas, ombre."_

Sombra chuckled as she refilled her glass. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

Emily rolled her eyes at them all, then redirected the conversation with her usual light touch. “We’re in _no_ condition to ride, but would you like to see the horses while you’re here? Everyone else has.”

Sombra actually _blanched_ , and Lena was torn between sympathy and a sudden joy at being on the _other_ end of the stick this time. “Oh, no. Noooo thank you. I saw enough _burros_ to last me a lifetime growing up. After the omnics flattened everything, they were _everywhere_ and it made the whole _town_ stink.” Sombra’s nose twitched, and she picked up her wine, taking a sip as if to banish the unpleasant memories. “I might check out the wine…making…place…but no horses. No way.”

“It’s not _so_ bad,” Lena admitted as she leaned forward, “Bisou’s _really_ friendly.” She caught Amélie’s eye with a little wink. “Even if Amé is his favorite.”

“That’s because she’s the only one of us with legs long enough to get around him properly,” Emily suggested, then looked down at her wine glass in horror as her face nearly matched her hair. “I…just said that out loud, didn’t I.”

“Perhaps it is time you switched to water,” Amélie suggested coolly as she left the couch, “I think I will take a walk out to the barn.”

Sombra stood and followed her out with an expression of great reluctance. “Yeah…uh…Bisou, huh? I guess I can go take a look at your new boyfriend...”

Almost as soon as they were gone Emily began to laugh. “Oh, that was absolutely wicked, sweet.”

Lena grinned. “Well, it’s nice to be on the _other_ end of the prank this time.” She gave her girlfriend an appraising look. “So maybe you weren’t _that_ drunk, pet.”

Emily’s eyes were twinkling. “Not…entirely. But it just seemed like a good way to pull off the trick, and besides it’s sort of _true_. Amé’s legs are at _least_ the fourth or fifth best thing about her.”

Lena giggled. “Oh? And what’s first?”

Emily snuggled in against her, leaving her wineglass on the end table. “Her heart, obviously.”

Lena gave a soft little ‘aww’ as she put her arms around Emily’s side. “That’s really sweet. Gonna tell her you said that.”

They cuddled for a few minutes before Sombra’s shout of “ _Chinga tu madre!”_ could be clearly heard coming from the barn, leaving them collapsing into laughter.

When they finally came up for air, Emily stood and began to head for the kitchen to get that water, collecting her glass and a few of the dirty plates along the way. “Of course, her sense of humor is up there, too…" 

Lena settled back on the couch with a chuckle and decided to snap up a few more pieces of cheese before everyone came back in. Good behavior or not, she was looking forward to seeing the look on Sombra’s face when she came back in.

* * *

A few days after Sombra’s memorable visit, they received confirmation the first trials in the money laundering cases had begun, and decided it was time to go home.

Bernard and his family promised to visit them in London some time soon, and would be shipping them a few bottles from his cellar ‘to improve their collection’ once they’d settled back in.

As they had packed and arranged for their train tickets home, Emily realized the case that Amélie had been keeping her ‘medical equipment’ in was not in the guest house – or in the car.

“Sombra took it for me,” Amélie explained cryptically when asked, “she is making some…arrangements.”

The trip back was mostly uneventful except for one surprising incident when they’d decided to spend the afternoon in Paris before heading back to London.

They’d been enjoying the early summer weather at an outdoor café when a younger woman who had been having lunch a few tables over came up to them with a nervous look on her face.

“Excuse me,” she asked quietly after they’d realized she was approaching, “but…it is you, isn’t it? You are Amélie Lacroix?”

Amélie stiffened slightly, but nodded back to her, feeling Lena and Emily both offering brief but reassuring touches. “I am, yes.”

“I thought so! You looked so different, but –” The stranger stopped, flushing with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, that was terribly rude of me. I…I saw you dance when I was a girl. Swan Lake. Your Odette was beautiful.”

Amélie blinked in surprise, then offered as gentle a smile as she could manage. “ _Merci._ I…had an accident, and needed a great deal of time to recover. It is very flattering that you remembered me – and you are very kind to say so.”

The girl beamed. “You inspired me! I dance in the chorus at _L’Opéra de Nationale._ I graduated school last year. After I saw you, it was all I wanted to do. Are you back in Paris? Will you be visiting the _Palais?_ ”

Her throat felt surprisingly tight. Lena’s hand came to rest on hers, lightly squeezing. “I am afraid not. I live in London, currently. We have been on a holiday visiting family, and are going home later today.”

The girl’s face fell slightly, and she suddenly seemed to realize that there were two other people sitting at the table with her idol. “Oh, I…I’m so sorry to interrupt, then! I had just hoped that perhaps I could invite you to a show and to visit backstage.”

Amélie nodded. “Perhaps another time…but thank you. It means a great deal to know that I was your inspiration, miss…?”

“Dorothée. Dorothée Bergeron.”

Amélie stood and offered her hand, grateful that she’d chosen a blouse which concealed the tattoo along her forearm. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Dorothée.”

“Oh, no, please, the pleasure was mine!” Dorothée took a step back, ducking her head. “ _Merci beaucoup!_ ”

They watched her leave a few bills on her table before leaving, almost floating down the street more than she walked.  

“I think you just made that girl’s year, angel.”

“Perhaps,” Amélie murmured as she settled back into her chair.

Lena’s eyes were filled with thoughtful concern. “You going to be OK, luv?”

Amélie had to consider that for a long moment. She took a deep breath, held it…and let it go. “Yes, _ma chérie_ , I think I will.”

* * *

It was early in the evening when a cab dropped them off at their building, and in the grand tradition of travelers returning from a long trip, they decided to order a pizza.

Emily had been holding her breath as Lena let them into the flat, but as she walked in, the awkwardness of that first day after she’d been attacked was gone. She wouldn’t say she’d completely recovered from what had happened, but her nightmares were less and less frequent, and she felt _home_ again as she watched Lena rattle through the kitchen to take stock of what they had to drink in the fridge. She felt _safe_ when Amélie kissed her cheek, then carried her suitcase into her bedroom.  

They ate pizza and watched _The Fellowship_ again, and when Emily found herself drifting off to sleep on the couch with her girls, it felt _right._

Emily had arranged for all of their held mail to be delivered the following Monday from the Royal Mail’s Keepsafe office, and to her surprise there was a large (and quite heavy) box delivered along with it – addressed to Amélie, and with no obvious return address.

“Didn’t think they’d deliver a package like that without a signature,” Lena observed as Amélie examined the box, “Is it the wine already?”

Emily shook her head. “Shouldn’t think so. The postage says it was sent out the same day we left Ribeauville.”

Amélie had examined the box carefully, then took a pair of scissors and slit the heavy brown wrapping paper, opening the box and carefully removing the gun case that Sombra had taken, followed by a rectangular ripstop nylon bag.

Lena snorted as she went back to sorting through the various bills and junk mail. “That explains a few things.”

“ _Behave_ , sweet.”

“I’ve been a _very_ good girl,” Lena protested, “and that was meant as a compliment! Mostly.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “I’m sure.” Turning to watch Amélie, she was surprised to see the gun case and bag left unopened. “I was half expecting you to have everything out and field stripped the instant you got it back.”

Amélie shook her head, running her fingertips over one of the ridges that lined the side of the case. “This…is not quite the same as what Sombra took.”

“I don’t follow,” Emily admitted, “that looks like the same case to me – I even see some of the sticker bits from the train.”

“The _case_ is the same,” Amélie explained, “but the contents are not.”

That got both of her lovers’ attention, and Amélie stopped her brief inspection of the case to consider what to say next as they both joined her at the coffee table.

“Have either of you ever heard of _René?”_

Emily caught Lena’s eye, then shook her head. “I assume you’re not talking about the proper name.”

“No.” Amélie shook her head. “It is…” She trailed off for a moment, her face going still with concentration as she considered her explanation. “A concept, I suppose. Something I learned in school, I think. The idea that a name is like being born. To be renamed – reborn. Even something as simple as choosing to go by a nickname…to change the person you are, or how you want to be seen.”

Emily nodded thoughtfully. “Like being seen as Widowmaker, even though you were no longer part of Talon. The conversation we had on the bed.”

Amélie nodded. “There was a time when I thought becoming Widowmaker had meant that Amélie was gone. Dead. But as more and more of my memories surfaced…” She paused and took Lena’s hand, kissing her knuckles lightly. “As you insisted I was there…I began to think that perhaps I could be a different Amélie. More than what Talon wanted for me. A life that was truly mine again.” Amélie looked across the table to Emily. “I have both of you to thank for that.”

Emily and Lena smiled back at her, but let Amélie finish with her explanation.

“I began to realize while we were in France that I was still holding things apart. That I treated being Amélie differently from being Widowmaker…and that I did not have to. That I am more than just one or the other.”

“You always have been, angel.”

Amélie shrugged. “I needed time to see that for myself. It was one thing to admit that I was…never truly gone. It was another thing to decide to move forward.”

Lena squeezed Amélie’s hand. “Good to hear. But I still don’t follow how that leads to what you said about the case.”

“Do you remember what you said to me, the day after we protected that girl in the alley?”

Lena had to think about that, her eyes going a bit distant. “Listening to your better angels, yeah.”

Amélie nodded. “That I did not want to see that girl be hurt by the man attacking her. That I did not want to see Emily hurt by Talon. That I could do something to stop them, so I acted.” She glanced with just a touch of uncertainty at Emily, but she saw pride in her eyes, not pain.

“You’re taking Winston up on his offer, Amé?” They both knew Emily wasn't really  _asking_ her that question.

Amélie nodded, and snapped open the case. Turning it towards them as she opened it. The rifle there was  _almost_ identical to Widow’s Kiss, but the composite stock and cladding were shades of grey and white, not deep purple and blue. The foam depression that had held her recon visor had been filled in, and now a much smaller piece of hardware rested there – almost like a very angular pair of glasses, but the “lenses” were some kind of metal, with red sensors along their edges, and the grappling gauntlet was clad in similar colors to the rifle, but looked a bit chunkier than the one she’d been wearing before.

“Oo. That’s pretty, I have to admit…” Lena lightly ran a finger over the gauntlet. “So Sombra replaced some of your gear, then?”

Amélie nodded. “These were prototypes. Talon deemed them ‘sufficient’, but not intimidating enough. Not in line with the ‘image’ they wished to project.”

Emily gave a dark little snort of laughter. “Aesthetic _and_ death.”

Lena groaned. “OK, First, that was _completely_ inappropriate, pet. Second, that should have been _my_ line!”

Emily smiled unrepentantly. “So…choosing to be Widowmaker, but not _Talon’s_ Widowmaker, then?”

Amélie nodded. “There is a new suit in the bag. Different. More…practical, Sombra claims. I will try it later.”

Lena gave Emily a little look. “I’m not sure if we’re a fan of practical lately. But it’s probably for the best.”

Amélie snorted, but couldn’t help a little smile. “Perhaps Emily can help me find something impractical which I can wear at home.”

“Mmm. Yes, please. We can go back to Oxford street later. Maybe hit a few more shops.” Emily gave Lena a wicked little smile. “I’ll take you out separately. Surprises for everyone.”

“I like this plan,” Lena agreed, “and I'm proud to be a part of it. So…can we see your new look after you try it all on?”

“Oh,” Emily sat back, “I don’t know. Do you think she’s earned a peek, angel?”

Amélie shrugged. “I’m sure she can do _something_ useful. Perhaps another foot rub?”

Emily grinned. “There’s a thought.”

Lena wiggled her eyebrows at them. “I’m happy to trade foot rubs for each of you for the fashion show.”

“I find those terms acceptable. Amé?”

Amélie closed the case, latching it, then picked it and the bag up and headed for her room. “Perhaps you can warm up with Emily then.”

Lena giggled the entire way to the couch.

Amélie’s new combat suit was a dark blue just this side of black, and completely covered her chest, belly, and back. It came with excellently fitted boots that had soles designed for comfort and climbing, a belt with a number of useful pockets, reinforced shoulder pauldrons, subtle armoring, and a puncture resistant underglove.

The neck and throat were open enough to be comfortable and allow for a full and easy range of movement, and she was able to wear underwear and a sports bra beneath it.

It was superior to nearly every uniform Talon had ever issued to her, and she hadn’t even taken it into the field yet.

She put her hair into a slightly lower ponytail than she’d typically worn to ‘work’, then pulled on her shooting glove. The streamlined recon visor came next, and the gauntlet went on last, flexing her fingers a few times to ensure the fit and dexterity.

She carried her unloaded rifle with her at shoulder arms, and returned to the living room to find Lena happily massaging Emily’s feet, as promised.

They were both quite impressed and appreciative. That had not been a requirement of her new look, but Amélie wasn’t complaining at all about the end results – even if getting undressed did take a little more effort than her original suit.

Well. It _would_ take more effort when she was undressing herself. Emily and Lena had been quite happy to volunteer, tonight.

Lena was curled against her side, her chest slowly rising and falling, when Emily returned from the bathroom.

She slid back into bed, then leaned across Amélie to gently kiss Lena’s forehead. Smiling at the way Lena’s lips turned up, she collected a kiss from her other girlfriend before she settled herself against the pillow. “So, you never really finished your explanation. About being Amélie, Widowmaker, and more.”

Amélie laughed softly. “I suppose I was distracted.”

“Oh,” Emily chuckled, “I’m not complaining.”

“I was worried that you would be upset,” Amélie admitted, “about my decision to accept the invitation. I know you enjoyed having…regular company.”

“I did enjoy that,” Emily reassured her quietly, “but I understand why you're doing it. You and Lena aren’t so different. I thought this might come…that you would want to take this step.” She smiled. “Besides, I _do_ like having you home, but this way I know you’ll keep _her_ safe, too.”

Amélie nodded as she ran her fingers through Lena’s hair. “Always, _mon amour._ ”

“So,” Emily asked, “how _do_ you feel now, angel? About moving forward?”

“Very loved,” Amélie murmured softly, “and not just alive…but as if I have a life ahead of me again.”

Emily smiled. “Good. You deserve it, Amélie.”

Amélie considered her plans as Emily joined Lena in slumber.

She would make it clear to Winston that she expected regular downtime for herself and Lena when they were not required in the field. Angela would encourage that as well, she suspected. Tracer and Widowmaker would be a very effective team in combat, she was sure, and with the resources the reborn Overwatch possessed, it would easy enough to ‘commute’ to Gibraltar.

Perhaps they could even be based in London.

She thought Emily would like that idea, and that might also allow Lena to do a few more ‘favors’ here and there, if someone needed Tracer’s help. Amélie might even be able to assist with a few, depending on what was required.

The more she thought of the possibilities, It felt very much like she had a future ahead of her rather than being trapped by her past.

Perhaps, Amélie thought with a smile as she closed her eyes, she did deserve that after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW when you accidentally write a book.
> 
> Wow.
> 
> I want to say thank you to Buttons, Iris, KK, Noir, Nox, and W. for beta reading and general advice, Atheris, Dori, Nika, Tamara, and Yumi for their art, and Asynca, Mizu, and many others for inspiration, support, and laughs.
> 
> Thanks to all of you for coming on this ride with me. I had no idea this story was going to become...well. What it's become. But I think I am a better writer for it, and I hope you've all enjoyed the journey as much as I did.
> 
> (Oh, and for the record I wrote the bit with Sombra and the baguette back in _March._ Life imitates art...?)


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